Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] Every year in late July as the moon is shining high a mysterious figure visits the local graveyard and sprinkles salt around the perimeter.	[ "Our quaint town of Brooke holds many cold secrets, between the child corpses discovered dangling high up in gargantuan trees, to a mysterious system of steam tunnels running labyrinth-like in twisted passages underneath the town, to the Brooke cemetery where a senile old gravedigger encircles the cemetery In salt every July. \n\n“Did you hear about old man Howard?” Trevor said, knocking me out of a trance-like stupor. \n\n“No? The dinosaur finally kick the bucket?” I retorted, \n\n“Yeah. But get this, I overheard my dad on the phone this morning talking about with another cop. My dad said his skin was pale as a ghost, he was clutching his bible so hard his fingernails made indentations in the leather. But that’s not even the weirdest thing, they couldn’t figure out how he died at first, then they noticed this bulge in his throat, during the autopsy when they cut him open they discovered a wad of bills clogging his esophagus.” \n\n“God that’s disgusting! Why do you always tell me about this shit?” I responded, “You know gore makes me nauseous.” \n\n“Because, this is a very important detail for tonight’s plan’s.” \n\n“How so?” \n\n“It means the cemetery’s open for business. On old Howard’s favorite night of the year too.” \n\n____________________________\n\nWe were a group of six sat around the largest headstone in the lot, an ouija board sprawled out on top of the table-like marker, we giggled and laughed, scared ourselves and waiting until the witching hour approached us. \n\nWhen it finally arrived, we sat in a breathless silence, eyes closed, hands held tight, our backs to the cemetery around us. The rules to our stupid game were awfully simple; whoever leaves first, spends tomorrow night alone amongst the dead. \n\nMy eyes closed tight I examined the sounds around me, the wind was dead, the birds were scarce, the air was musty and damp. I heard fluttering footsteps and screams as one friend left, then another, then another, so on and so forth it went until it was me and Trevor, I squeezed his hand tight, although the world around me was silent, I still felt an ominous feeling of dread boiling within my stomach. \n\n“Trevor?” I asked, giving his cold hands a squeeze, “can we please leave?” \n\nNo response. \n\n“Please? This game is stupid. Everyone else already left.” \n\nNo response. \n\nWhat kind of game is he playing here, it wasn’t funny. I wanted to leave, but I was too terrified to open my eyes. \n\n“Trevor, lets fucking go now, please!” I said sternly in an elevated tone. \n\nStill nothing greeted my words but a gentle breeze. \n\nI tried to free my hand but Trevor’s grip was so goddamn tight. His fingers squeezed my knuckles harder and harder. I still kept my eyes firmly closed, resisting, tears streaking down my face. \n\n“This isn’t fucking funny!” I screamed out thrashing against his grip with all my might, my face hot and wet with tears. \n\n“Sarah!” I heard distantly, “Sarah! Get the fuck out of there” someone screamed from beyond the cemetery’s gates. “Sarah!” The voice persisted, louder and more frantic. And that’s when I began to realize, that was Trevor yelling beyond the cemetery’s fences, so who was this?\n\nI at last threw open my eyes horrified at the grotesque and malformed face inches from my own, disease seeped from its bleeding gums, and it’s decayed lips were etched into a deep smile. I thrashed myself free, screaming and crying, I managed to get myself loose, when I turned to face an entire crowd of deathy-silent corpses, surrounding me completely, countless in numbers. \n\nAnd at last, a horrified reality set upon me, so this is why the old man salted these grounds. \n\n\n", "Rinth had once been the king’s magician, when he was young. He would ride out with the knights to fight their foes wielding great magics; he would divine the mysteries of the winds and weathers for his majesty’s navy on their adventures; he would decipher the ancient scrolls to help his king rule well; and, one day, he fell in love.\n\nShe was a messenger from a far off land, come to offer terms of a trade to the king. Her eyes met his and, in an instant, captured his soul. Rinth watched her leave the palace with a soft pang of regret. But times were good, and trade between the countries grew year after year. As the trade grew, so did the countries’ bond; as the bond grew, so did the length of the messenger’s visits.\n\nEventually, Rinth worked up the courage to introduce himself. Lydia was everything Rinth was not \\-\\- bold, confident, boisterous \\-\\- and he was everything she admired \\-\\- reticent, wise, conscientious. In time they became fast friends, and in even more time, through the mysterious alchemy of the universe, they became lovers.\n\nHowever, all good things have their trials, and some even come to quick, horrific ends. Not three years later, the King, consumed by madness, declared war on his once\\-close trading partner, and, in a fit of unthinking rage, had Lydia killed as a spy of the enemy. Rinth awoke to a mad world, ruled by a mad king; but he was loyal to his office, and he continued to fulfill his duties as the realm’s wizard.\n\nIn secret though, in the darkness, he was consumed with the studies of the dark and dangerous magics written in the shadowy grimoires that had been locked away. He called out to demons and warlocks and all manner of evil creatures, desperate for knowledge and a way back to his happiness. One day, he found it.\n\nAn ancient ritual of resurrection, a type of necromancy best left alone, a summons to the land beyond. It required a great sacrifice, a sacrifice of power. Rinth, eyes black as night, howling fel incantations, marched through the castle, slaying guard after guard, and approached the king. The king, deep in the sickness of his madness begged for his life and Rinth, deep in his own, granted him death. The sacrifice complete, the spell crashed down on the castle with a fearsome force, killing all the living within, and resurrecting all the dead.\n\nAt last, Rinth was with his Lydia again. They rejoiced and danced and laughed through the night. The castle was filled with the celebrations of the dead, and then, with the rising sun, she was taken back to the depths. The spell Rinth had wrought was only good for one night, the seventh full moon of the year, but it echoed for all time. Rinth, no longer quite human, lived on in that place, alone, sustained only by the one night a year when he saw his love taken from him again and again.\n\nAs the years passed, the castle crumbled, and a village grew around the ruins. The grounds, having been noted for their strangeness and disquietude, became the village cemetery. Rinth, unable to die for his unquenchable sadness, prowled the land night after day, keeping the village people out, and, for one night a year, sprinkling salt to keep the dead in." ]	2
	[WP]You are in a prison cell for a long time. The only thing you can see is the red sky from the window. You dont remember how much time passed, why are you here, who you are, the only thing you hear is the endless singing of a woman with magical voice. One day, the cells door opens...	[ "Was I ever anywhere else? Was I ever a different person? I know I'm locked up, but I don't remember a personal freedom. Within these walls, I know only that bright red sky and that voice that calls me to harken it's message. It has such a nostalgic feel to it, welling up old memories from time to time. Not who I was, or where I was from... but now, I do remember what I did... ah... it's coming back to me now... \n \nI see her, she's smiling, dancing upon the hill like the flowers she's twirling over. What a radiant smile, bright like the sun that silhouettes her flowing hair, but fading like that same dusk horizon. She and I were madly in love— every moment was occupied by some blissful distraction; it felt like we could escape the world with this ethereal joy. This was something that we wanted to keep and share, something to share with family. She and I were working towards a home perfect for a child, one we would raise with the same endless love we feel for each other. The home was taking shape in form and spirit, preparations for the emotional obstacles that lay ahead, as well as the more tangible challenges. The house we had was too small, we had never had material want before, but if it was within my power I would want to raise our child in the best environment I could bring before me. And so I worked, I toiled, I sacrificed my comfort and well-being to bring about a better world for those that I loved. The hours grew longer, the work more fierce, and the competition more bold. My coworkers became more hostile toward me, they could feel the abrasion that my ambition was causing. The environment was polluting my mind, but my home was my sanctuary, no matter how toxic things became, my foundation would remain unshaken. I pushed and fought back, I would have what was needed for our future and the greed of my peers would not be just cause to stop me. Ideals hold only so far though, and people hold deep evils that are normally small and inconsequential, but have the capacity to overcome any sensibilities. I felt my mind taut, and my will sinking. Horrors suffered, bridges burned, and much time lost... no not lost... they are years which have been given to my unborn child. For my wife and child, I could bear this and much more... I would have to, though I could not have predicted the evils of my peers, nor my own. To come home and see him with her, what is this, what is he doing here? How long has this been going on for? For an edge over me? For companionship I couldn't satisfy? Do you love him? Don't you love me?! Well I have no love! There's only hatred, and red and dusk, and death! Go to hell, you, him, and that bastard child! \n \nIt was over in an instant. All of it, the hopes, the lives, the meaning. And so, in that crimson sunset, I decided to go with them. There is no escape from that same eerie sunset here. The singing voice in this surreal prison taunts me for my actions, ones that I can never escape. In fact it seems I did have freedom from this nightmare, yet it was me that threw it all away." ]	1
	[WP] The skeleton inside your body has decided to take you to court for keeping it captive within your fleshy prison.	[ "\"May the defendant please rise.\"\nI rolled my eyes.\n\"May the defendant...Oh for heaven's sake, somebody get him up already.\"\nThe judge watched with annoyance as I was slowly being pulled to my feet.\n\"What do you have to say for yourself?\"\nI wanted to laugh but all I could manage was a small splutter, like the sound of a dying car engine. He wasn't asking me of course. No, the question had been directed towards my attorney Chuck who was nervously shuffling through his paper work. He was the one doing most of the talking these days.\n\"In sight of the charges presented by the prosecution against my client...\"\nI stopped listening. This was ridiculous. With a great deal of effort I managed to turn my gaze towards the prosecution's table. There he was, slumped into the chair next to his lawyer. Head laid back, arms dangling by his sides, grinning at me with two rows of bone-white teeth. I wanted to punch him, knock that grin right of his skull. I certainly had the muscle for it. But what good are muscles, without anything to hold them up.\nWhen they had dressed me for court, they had just left the coat hanger inside my suit jacket. So now here I was, hanging from a coat rack like a flesh colored jump suit. Reduced to a pile of meat, muscles, nerves and organs, all bundled up in a flabby bag of skin. While my own skeleton was sitting across the room, suing me for keeping him imprisoned inside my body for the past 32 years.\nHow the gutless bastard had managed to even get an attorney and file a lawsuit, despite not being able to move let alone think, was beyond me. I suspected some of my muscles to be in on it, maybe a few organs as well. Left Kidney had always hated me, ever since I'd gotten rid of her twin sister. Oh well, as long as Liver didn't bail on me too. That would not have gone well with my recently acquired alcohol habit.\nThe sound of the gavel slamming down on the judge's table brought my attention back to the courtroom.\n\"After considering all the facts and testimonies brought before this court today, I have reached my verdict. In the matter of Mr. Clark's Skeleton vs. The Rest of Mr. Clark the court finds...\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------\nThat's what I came up with on my two hour flight back to Germany. Constructive criticism as well as any errors I've missed are much appreciated.\nSo long, Nick" ]	1
Inspiration from r/showerthoughts	[WP] A surprise party where instead of everybody popping out at once, people gradually pop out throughout the party.	[ "My mom liked tin foil, A LOT, and she also had memory issues. Go figure. It was my 14th birthday and I was pretty excited. I really wanted a Game Boy Advance or a submachine gun that could shoot lasers.\n\nMy mom was wearing a fancy dress like she was about to go to church, it was yellow with flowers on it and it reminded me of a shower curtain which matched her pale complexion. We were both sitting in the car and had pulled up in the driveway. She opened up her car door, \"Come with me Matthew, we're doing your surprise party.\"\n\n\"Mom, what the fuck!?\" I said.\n\n\"Just kidding.” My mom said. “Help me open the garage door.\"\n\n\"Its a fucking button in the car.\"\n\n\"Don't swear its your birthday, your father and I didn't do anything big we just got you a card.\" My mom lied. She hit the garage door button with her index finger, and it began to open slowly.\n\n\"You just told me you were taking me to a surprise party. Why is uncle Rod's car here?” I pointed. “And look over there, that's Grandma and Grandpa Crumb making out in their van. Gross.”\n\n“We're helping them do their taxes in the garage, now come on, get out, lets go!”\n\nBefore I could open the door a girl with her face and hands covered in blood but her bloody hands on my window and started shrieking at me. I screamed back and my mom turned around sharply.\n\n“Its just your cousin.” My mom said.\n\nMy mom and I both got out of the car and my cousin ran to the garage, where uncle Rod and my dad were standing.\n\nMy dad came out of the garage holding a steak knife that was covered in frosting, “Hey guy! Surprise buddy!”\n\n“Why are you holding a knife?” My mom interrupted.\n\n“Your brother is drunk and demanded cake.” My dad said sarcastically.\n\n“Well your pothead hippie parents are sucking face on the side of our road.” My mom replied angrily.\n\nA cop car with its siren on came flying down the road and hit the back bumper of mom and dad's car. The policeman got out of his car and was in full uniform but wearing flip flops. He looked at me and said, “Hey Renee, Hey Robert, I'm on lunch, so I can't stay long.”\n\n“Who is that?” My dad asked.\n\n“I don't know.” My mom said.\n\nA large SUV pulled up to the side of the road, and a Mexican family of six piled out, one of the men was in his forties and had a large black mustache.. he spoke to my mom, “Hello Renee, from our family to yours, we come to wish the little bowler well.”\n\n“Bowler?” My dad asked.\n\n“Yes sir,” The man shook my father's hand. “The name is Jose Luis. Your wife is one of the best on our bowling team, and the only non-mexicano!”\n\nMy dad had an expression of confusion and shock.\n\n“Dad..” \n\n“Yeah?” My dad asked.\n\n“I've haven't went bowling with mom in years.” I said.\n\n“I don't know who these people are.” My mom said. “I don't remember any of this.”\n\nA really fancy limousine pulled up with a fancy sports car behind it. A man in a fancy suit got out of a front door and opened the middle door from some older black lady who got out of the limo. At this point, everybody was trying to figure out was going on, while I was wondering if the garage was going to be big enough if too many people were invited.\n\nJose Luis's eyebrows went up, “Is that.. Oprah Winfrey?”\n\n“Hello Renee, I was in the neighborhood and I just thought I'd stop by to wish your son a happy birthday!”\n\nMy cousin pointed and yelled, “That's Eckhart Tolle in your garage!”\n\nI looked over at a man who had slipped into the garage and was sitting in a metal chair eating a slice of pizza. He looked over at me, “Matthew, remember the greatest gift you can give yourself is to stay in the present moment.”\n\nJose Luis's brother rose his hands up in the air, “How the fuck did he sneak into your garage!? We are an entire family of Mexicans and we didn't even see him!”\n\n“What the hell is that!?” Oprah said.\n\nWhat looked like a 7-foot-tall man crossed with a bear came casually walking through the neighbor's lawn from across the road leaving huge footprints. The cop drew his gun but the Bigfoot ignored him. The creature glanced at my mom, “Hey Ren. I heard there was pizza and cake so thought I'd stop by.”\n\nBigfoot ducked his head down and sat down in the garage next to Eckhart Tolle, then he grabbed a pizza box with the pizza still in it, and took a bite out of the whole thing.\n\n\"So.. what do you do for a living?\" The hairy creature asked.", "I was waiting for her behind the storage closet of her home. Jason, our best friend since high school, staged this entire surprise birthday party for her. Well, him and a few others I guess. She'd been out of the house for quite a while now, probably celebrating with her co-workers or out on a date. \n\nWe were scattered all around the house. Some where in the backyard, others in the kitchen, there were even those in the bedroom and wash rooms. \n\nKeys jingle around the door knob \n\nShhh! Here she comes! said Jason, who looked like he tried his hardest to keep his voice down. If I could hear his voice from way back here, I'm sure she's already heard it outside. \n\nThe doors open and they come in.\n\n*\"Surprise!\"\n\nShe was overwhelmed with joy, from the sound of it. They were singing \"For she's a jolly good fellow\"* with cheering afterwards.\n\n\"Thank you guys,\" she said, sobbing, \"Let me just go up and change.\" she then proceeds to walk up the stairs of her home. We then hear a slightly distant \"Happy birthday!\" upstairs, followed by some shrieking. Everyone was just laughing here downstairs. \n\nThey then proceed to put on some music, and from the sound of it, open some chips and dip. A bottle of wine or champagne, I guessed, was popped open, presumably by Amber, who yelled an unmistakable *\"WOO HOO!\"* from the kitchen. She always was her best drunk friend.\n\n\"Wait, wait, let me freshen up a bit in the bathroom.\" she said, walking away and turning on the lights of her bathroom. \"SURPRISE!\" they, our old college buddies, yelled at her. I hope they didn't pull a \"Wait until she sits on the toilet and open the shower curtains\" routine. They should be better than that. \n\nFinally, 30 minutes into the party, I guessed that I was the only one left. I heard screaming from the backyard so I'd assume I was the last man standing. I got tired of waiting and got out of the storage closet. I proceeded to the counter and got some chips and a glass of wine, when she saw me. \n\n\"Nathan?\" she said, covering her mouth with her hand, with tears visibly welling up from her eyes.\n\n\"Hey, you.\" I said, smiling. Hopefully, I didn't look like I was attempting to smolder. I was trying to keep it together. 7 years *is* a long time, after all. \n\n\"Go on, Eva.\" said Amber, \"don't be shy.\"\n\nShe approached me and didn't even shy away from an embrace and immediately hugged me. \n\n\"I've missed you.\" she said, with her tears rolling down my shirt. \n\n\"Ditto.\" I replied, since I never really was much of an expressive guy. Stay strong for others and all that. \"Because if I can't, who will?\" I always thought to myself.\n\nShe let's go of me and chuckles, \"You really haven't changed, have you?\" she said, sniffing and wiping away her tears. \n\nWe talked for a little while. There was a lot of catching up to do, after all. \n\nThen Jordan greeted me. \"Hey man, thanks for agreeing to come.\" he said, holding his hand out for a handshake, with her left arm around Eva. \"No problem.\" I replied, shaking his hand. \n\n\"We haven't seen you seen since the wedding, man.\" said Jordan. He then held Eva tighter and said \"We missed you.\" \n\n\"Yeah, I missed her too.\" was what I wanted to say. I simply said, \"Cheers.\" and held up my glass, then we all drank what we were holding. \n\nI knew that look in her eyes: lonely and wanting. All I wanted was for her to be happy. \n\nDid I make the right call of letting her go?\n\n&nbsp;\n\nFeedback and criticism would be much appreciated.", "The metro seems pretty rough today.\n\nEvery few moments the train seems to jostle a little too heavily, causing a few of the passengers to look up, startled. \n\nSome go back to looking at their phones or books.\n\nOthers give nervous little chuckles.\n\nThe rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. Faster than usual, even. It usually takes about twenty minutes to get back to the closest station, but it appears we've only arrived in ten.\n\nThe car comes to a final stop, and I stand and stretch my legs slightly.\n\nStill somewhat sore from my workout this morning. Got to get back into shape, they told me. It helps with the grieving process, they say. \n\nStay busy. \n\nWork hard.\n\nDon't think about it.\n\nThe bus makes me nervous now, though it's only a four minute ride from the station.\n\nI used to drive to work before the accident, but I can't bring myself to get behind the wheel anymore.\n\nI sit in that same seat, where my blood had once soaked into the fabric. \n\nBrand new seats now.\n\nInstead of the mindlessness of just turning the ignition and getting on my way, all that comes to me is panic. \n\nA tight grip on the wheel, unsuccessfully strangling the fear.\n\nA smoother ride on the bus, then up the sidewalk.\n\nTo my surprise, the flowers in front of the house seem well tended here. Splotches of color, heads held high.\n\nHealthy.\n\nAlive.\n\nStrange.\n\nIt had been raining recently, but I hadn't been paying much attention to the yard. That had been Laura's domain. Maybe they were just late bloomers, waiting for early summer. Whatever.\n\nTwist the doorknob, and already I've planned out the rest of my evening.\n\nMicrowaved dinner, a six pack, maybe a movie and then straight to bed. \n\nI liked my routine. It feels good to impose order where I can.\n\nIn swings the door.\n\nInside, a room full of people.\n\nSURPRISE!\n\nShock. For a moment my mouth opens and closes like a fish trapped in an aquarium, words attempting to come out by failing time and time again.\n\nThere's the general hubbub of voices speaking over each other and a few laughs.\n\nWhat day was today?\n\nMy birthday?\n\nNo, it wasn't. I knew it wasn't.\n\nBut all around my house, streamers and banners. \n\nHAPPY BIRTHDAY!\n\nOne after another, lining the entire living room. My dining room table brimming with assorted dips and prepackaged food. I could already see the sheen on the cheese cubes, sweating.\n\nHow did these people get in my house?\n\nI barely recognize half of them.\n\nMy brother comes forward, pushing through the crowd. \n\n\"Hey buddy, the guest of honor has finally arrived!\"\n\nWhat the hell is he doing here? He lives across the country.\n\nHe's coming towards me, burlier and taller than I seem to remember. His beard has grown out, and he looks like he's lost some weight. But it's definitely him, that giant birthmark still runs down his forearm.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing here?\"\n\nIt's all I can ask, but he just laughs at the question.\n\n\"Big surprise, man. Everyone's here. Happy birthday!\"\n\n\"It isn't my birthday.\"\n\n\"Sure it is! You must have let it slip your mind.\"\n\nHe puts an arm around my shoulder, leading me through before I can ask what's going on.\n\n\"Look we got all your favorite shit,\" he's motioning to the table.\n\nHe's right. There are my favorite chips, dips, and beers. But still, the confusion.\n\n\"Today is the sixteenth, isn't it?\"\n\nMy brother shakes his head.\n\n\"It's your birthday is what it is.\"\n\nHe shoves a beer in my hand before clapping my shoulder so hard it almost knocks me over.\n\n\"Look we'll catch up in a few, I got to go check on some shit in the oven.\"\n\nHe disappears into the crowd.\n\nWho are these people?\n\nThere are congratulations given to me by strangers, telling me to enjoy my special day. The faces seem to blend together, some of them recognizable, but no one stands to talk to me for long. They return to whatever conversation they've already been immersed in.\n\nSomeone grabs my hand.\n\n\"How's the birthday boy?\"\n\nIt's my mom, but she too looks different. Younger, more vibrant. Alien to the last time I saw her.\n\n\"Mom? What are you doing here?\"\n\nShe laughs and squeezes my hand before hugging me. I haven't seen her like this in God knows how long, not since Dad got sick. Taking care of a dying man can kill the caretaker sometimes.\n\nHer dress is a bright floral print, somewhere between red and pink. Great white flowers dot the surface.\n\n\"I'm so glad you're finally here, we were waiting for so long to set this up.\"\n\n\"Mom it isn't my birthday. Where is dad?\"\n\nI had last seen her looking after a man who couldn't remember his own name or clean up his own shit. Laying in a bed while holes formed in his brain, losing memories. Sometimes he would wake up afraid, and my mother no longer tried to soothe him, merely waiting for him to calm down. \n\nGrey hairs, worn clothes, sallow eyes. \n\nThere's no note of it in her now.\n\nShe gives a playful scowl, before laughing again.\n\n\"Of course it's your birthday, silly. Listen, you enjoy yourself, I need to go help your brother in the kitchen.\"\n\nShe too, disappears in the crowd.\n\nI stand by the table for awhile, eating and drinking. My mood has improved somewhat, and I can't really bring myself to care over the fact it isn't my birthday. There's something comforting in the people now, even though I do not know them. \n\nGenuine happiness. That's whats on their faces.\n\nSomething I haven't had for awhile.\n\nAnother powerful clap on the shoulders.\n\nWhy does everyone keep appearing behind me?\n\nI'm halfway through a chip topped with guacamole, but turn to see who it is.\n\nThe chip falls to the floor.\n\n\"Dad?\"\n\n\"Happy birthday, son!\"\n\nHe's standing. \n\nThat's impossible.\n\nHis hair is still gone, but he too sports a beard like my brother's. Arms no longer withered and atrophied, chest no longer chaotically rising and falling, legs no longer thin useless noodles. \n\nSomeone else. This can't be him.\n\n\"You're not my dad.\"\n\nHe looks somewhat hurt but embraces me anyway.\n\n\"Of course I'm your dad. Who else would I be?\"\n\nI want to push him away, but conflating images seem to cross my mind. My nose bleeds somewhat, a thin stream.\n\nHe hands me a napkin and I wipe it away. \n\n\"Dad, you're sick. You're very, very sick and shouldn't be up walking,\" I try to say more but the words won't come. \n\nHe laughs at me, like I've told the funniest joke he's ever heard. That same booming laugh from when I was younger, it's unmistakable. Like walking into a photo of the past.\n\n\"Look, we'll have plenty of time to talk in a few minutes. I need to go help your mother and brother in the kitchen.\"\n\nHe turns to leave, but I try to grab him, to keep him here. The man I remember and know, not a wasting corpse.\n\n\"Can't let your brother burn anything in there, you know he can't cook for shit,\" he calls over his shoulder.\n\nAgain he's lost in the crowd. \n\nI don't know what's going on, but I have to move forward.\n\nI have to follow him.\n\nI make my way to the kitchen, but the wall of bodies seems tighter and tighter, giving less space to move. An impenetrable human wall.\n\nI can't make my way there.\n\nAnother pull on my hand.\n\nI turn, and this time it's a ghost.\n\nLaura stands there, her hair kept in a tight ponytail. \n\nSame mole on her chin.\n\nSame grin.\n\n\"Happy birthday!\"\n\nShe embraces me, and I no longer want to think about what's happening, I don't care what's going on. \n\nI definitely don't give a shit it isn't my birthday.\n\nI hold her as tight as I can, but I can't help but notice.\n\nShe has no heart beat.\n\n\"Laura, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,\" I can't help it.\n\nThey spill out, hot and sticky. Regret and guilt.\n\n\"I shouldn't have gone so fast, I should have paid more attention I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,\" I can't stop. All I can say is I'm sorry.\n\nAll I can see is the smoke and glass after the sudden screech. \n\nAn accident on a remote road.\n\nA corpse nearly twenty feet ahead of the vehicle, thrown onto the asphalt. Not my wife, but something similar. A bag of meat, brains sprayed and sticky on the hot summer road. Not a woman, not Laura. Laura wasn't dead, Laura would never leave me like that.\n\nAt the funeral I remember looking at the stillness in her face. All I could remember thinking about was how well a job the morgue had done stitching it back together.\n\nBut here she stands. Not in a casket, but not alive either.\n\n\"Laura what's happening?\"\n\nShe presses a hand to my chest.\n\n\"Do you feel anything?\" \n\nI stop and pay attention now.\n\nThe metro was pretty rough\n\n\"Do you notice something missing?\"\n\nThat metro ride was impossibly fast\n\nI have no heart beat.\n\nThe train took some of those turns a little too hard, it must have derailed.\n\n\"It happens like this for everyone,\" she says to me.\n\nI wonder when it happened?*\n\nShock. \n\nI have no heart beat.\n\n\"It's easier to ease people into what comes next this way,\" she says.\n\nHer voice is far away, somewhere on the wind.\n\nI can't seem to find the words, but I try as hard as I can.\n\n\"Do you leave me now?\"\n\nShe shakes her head, and the crowd seems to part.\n\nFor the first time, silence.\n\n\"Let's go help your family in the kitchen,\" and she begins to lead me through the gap in the crowd.\n\n\"What happens next?\"\n\nIt's all I can ask.\n\n\"You'll see when you get there,\" she says.\n\n\"Don't be afraid.\"\n\nI'm not.\n\nI don't care anymore. \n\nAs long as she never lets go, I don't care what happens next.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nr/storiesfromapotato" ]	3
	[WP] A man has lived far beyond his time, and was meant to die years ago. But every time the Reaper came, the man was in the middle of something so interesting, that Death did not want to interrupt him.	[ " A mild electric rattle was heard behind him. He jolted and turned around. And there was the Reaper. Not what you expected, just a middle aged Slavic looking fella with a long scythe. He was wearing jeans with a wide belt and a sleeveless shirt. Simply put, he looked like a filthy Russian wife beater. \n\n\"I have no idea who you are but no conducting objects in this room, haven't you read the sign at the door?\" The young man in the was exactly his contrary. Smartly dressed, in a waistcoat and shirt with tie. Leather shoes and a handkerchief. \n\n\"You can see me?\" The young man looked confused. Then took a better look at the intruder.\n\n\"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my lab. Actually, I don't care. Hold this down.\" The Reaper obeyed. The young man flipped a switch and started reading numbers of the screen. After every number he adjusted a screw, valve or dial. A loud click was heard. He looked though a small window. And looked relieved. Went to the reaper, flipped a switch, adjusted a pressure lock and told him to lift his finger. \"Well you are my first witness. Antimatter has some interesting optical optical properties. And I am the one measuring them.\" The room was huge. 30m tall, 40m wide, 60m wide. He gave the Reaper his hand. \"Prozenski, George.\" The Slavic man looked confused. Then gave him his hand. \n\n\"Death. How do you see me?\" \n\n\"Others don't? Ok, listen up. I really cant have this huge blade here. The instruments are sensitive and if there is a containment breach, we are all dead.\" Death finally understood what happened. He just saved this mans life. \"Do you hear me?\"\n\n\"Sorry, sorry for the intrusion.\" With the same electrical rattle he dissipated. George looked confused. Fuckit, first the Nobel prize. \n\nThat was the first time he met death, by the time he was 80. Death usually came along on Sundays around noon for coffee and biscuits which his girlfriend and then wife made. The exchanged stories about death and, much more interesting for the Reaper, life. He still maintained his awful timing. Showing up exactly as the ADS1 (Antimatter detection satellite) was launching in 2048. Whilst landing the first over 50 on the colony on the moon. On his 30th wedding day. But George got used to it and as his friends started dying form age and fatigue this, bald Slavic wife beater was becoming ever more his closest and longest friend. ", "Slithering in the Winter wind, beyond the vision of all creatures, and existing before time: the embodiment and spirit of death, the visage under skin, changed its cosmic focus once again-- which is to say in our limited tongue or language, made its way once again, to the man it could not help but spare. Its \"eye\" swirled around his house, today would be the day, no more waiting.. it had to be.\n\nBut dread gripped death as it saw.. felt.. the click of a record button on a camera.\n\n\"Hey everybody welcome to the Colin Furze 300th birthday show! You asked for it, you got it! Let's put a flamethrower and an icethrower on a sex robot's nipples, then outfit it with a stereo and a jetpack and have it travel topless across England while blasting The Sex Pistols!\"", "Death knew what he was doing was unnatural. When its time for someone to go, its Deaths job to escort them. Those were the rules, but... but who was really there to stop Death? There was Life, but Life wouldn't argue against Death stalling the departure of one of her precious creations. There was no god, no natural order, just Life and Death, eternal, and so very bored. And then there were the humans. Life and Death had very different opinions about them. Life cherished them, loved her creations so much. She knew it must happen, but she still resented her creatures mortal lifespans, how they withered and died. She resented Death for his part it it. Death was a non-entity on the subject. He did not love them, he did not hate them. They were there on the earth, and when their souls were ready to be harvested, he did his job. There were no emotions, no second thoughts, no tears. \n\nNo interest. \n\nThe mortals were utterly and excruciatingly naive. And boring. Compared to Death, they had no knowledge, no life experience. They were like children, even the ones who lived to a century. So Death could not care a single bit about the mortals. At least he didn't think he could. But then...\n\nThere is a man. When Death goes to reap his soul, he is... distracted. Which is not something he can say has happened to him very often. The man, so very scared, but so very brave, fights against his death. Fights against Death. He is on a cliffside, holding on by his fingertips, trying to heave himself back on the ledge. Atop that ledge, sits a bleeding child. The child is sure to bleed out without help, and Death can feel that there are only two people in the vicinity. The child and the man on the cliff. \n\nDeath does not feel sympathy. Death does not make mistakes. But this... this must be a mistake. Because it is the mans time, but not the child. And the child will die without the man.\n\nDeath does not make exceptions.\n\nHe doesn't, but he decides it won't hurt to see where this goes. So he settles himself on the side of the cliff, overlooking a fatal fall. And he waits. He watches as the man pulls himself back onto the ledge. Watches as the man heals the child with amateur tools. Follows as the man carries the child from the cliff, back to the nearest town. Death realizes that the man is past his time. His soul should have been reaped at the bottom of that cliff. \n\nDeath does not make mistakes and he doesn't make exceptions. No matter what. But, Death figures that a little more time wouldn't hurt. Death fades into the dark right as the man looks into the space where Death once was.\n\n~~~\n\nIt happens again. Death cannot help himself. This intriguing man, slowly losing his youth to time he should not have, should be gone ten times over. But every time, Death sees him, he is... He is more real to Death than humanity has been in a long time. Death has not revealed himself, but he knows the mortal knows he is there. Not what he is, or what he's there for, just that he is there. Waiting. Watching. \n\nLife questions his motives, his reasons for denying this man his end. \n\nDeath does not have an answer. \n\nThe man is tired now, after living so many years, through so many trials. Death would take him, but theres something stopping him. Something almost like longing. If Death does take his soul to the underworld, Death would not see him again. Death does not exist in Life, nor in the underworld. He is between. He does not want to lose the first thing that has sparked his interest in so long. \n\n~~~\n\nThe man dies eventually. After years, after centuries, Death has mercy on him. The man is so tired now, his bones creak in the wind and he has withered. Death is no less interested, no less intrigued, but the man has passed his time too far. So Death finds him lying in a bed, breathing heavy, and Death raises his scythe. He brings it down with no hesitation, and the last breath the man took rushes out as a relieved sigh.\n\nThen suddenly, this man, this mortal is standing next to him, his youth regained in death. Death looks at the man. The man looks around for a minute before settling on Death. The man does not speak but Death hears him anyway. Hears the words hidden in the shadows, sees the recognition in the mans eyes. Death knows that this man already knows who he is.\n\nDeath doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't make exceptions.\n\nThe next day, the man is gone and Death continues to do what he knows he must. For eternity.", "Death stepped from his timeless plane into the bright light of day. He appeared as he always had: a skeletal figure, cloaked all in black. In his hands he held an ancient hourglass and a scythe; both the symbols of his duty, and the tools he used to perform it. \n \nEach hourglass was unique. Tied to a specific human life, and timed to expire when that soul was ready to be claimed. By merely selecting an hourglass and entering the mortal world, Death could appear to anyone, anywhere, at the exact moment when their life was ending. \n \nThis time, Death stepped out into chaos. \n \nA dozen reptilian warriors lay dead or dying in a circle before him. Their multi-hued scales glistened in the oily swamp that was their home, and their gold-flecked eyes stared unblinking at the sun above. Jagged obsidian axes and bright feathered headdresses were scattered about the corpses. And in the center of the circle, surrounded by the dead, a lone human faced off against a pack of raging lizard men. \n \nThe man’s bright red hair hung to his massive shoulders, strewn with blood and filth from wrestling in the mud. A worn leather eyepatch covered one eye, failing to hide an angry scar that ran into his hairline, and a bristling unkempt beard obscured most of his face. His right arm had apparently been lost at some point in his adventures, replaced by a mechanical limb that was currently crushing the life out of one of his attackers. The rest of the lizard men were keeping their distance, waiting for an opening. \n \nDeath spoke. “Hello, Joseph.” \n \nThe grizzled man spun around excitedly, dropping his latest victim. “Grim!” he shouted. “Good to see you again! Haven’t had a visit in what, fifteen years? Has it really been that long?” \n \nBehind him, a lizard warrior leapt towards him with its crude axe raised high. Joseph backhanded it without looking, sending it flying through the air to land with a splash in the muck a few feet away. “When did we last run into each other?” \n \nDeath cocked his head. “I believe,” he mused, his eyes glowing dimly as he remembered, “that you were fighting a thirty-foot-tall robotic scarab. In a desert made of purple glass.” \n \n“By god, that’s right!” shouted Joseph, punching another lizard-man as it tried to disembowel him. “The Space Mummies of Zeta-Twelve! Thought I was in real trouble there when you showed up—no offense, of course, I’d understand if it was my time and all—but I managed to get it sorted out just after you left.” \n \n“Indeed,” said Death. “I suspected you might. And now, you are…?” \n \n“What, this?” said Joseph, swinging a reptilian warrior by its tail and hurling it into its comrades. They fell like bowling pins. “Funny story! Just a moment.” Raising his mechanical arm, he pointed it at the toppled pile of lizard men. The metal claw that served as his missing hand split in two, and an enormous beam of blue light shot out of the exposed arm-cannon, disintegrating the bodies where they lay. The hand snapped back together with a clack. \n \nHe turned back to face Death, smiling broadly. “Sorry about that. Anyway, you remember how I owe Glormax for that warp key I borrowed, right?” \n \nIt is difficult to give the impression of a raised eyebrow when you have no flesh, but Death somehow managed it. “You mean the outlawed space travel technology you stole from a Korlis prison-ship?” \n \n“That’s the one!” laughed Joseph. “So those Korlis boys have been after me something fierce for that little stunt, and I needed something to pay ‘em back with. And since these Ket’rrala buggers have the biggest jewel in the system, I figured—” \n \nA party of lizard men riding feathered raptors burst from the nearby treeline, heading straight for them. They shook their axes in the air as they charged, hissing in outrage. \n \n“You figured you’d steal the Holy Eye of Ket’thul to pay back the Korlis Collective,” sighed Death. \n \n“Exactly!” shouted Joseph. “Woop, hold on.” He turned to face the oncoming warriors, pulling a blaster from his belt and sending three lizard men tumbling from their mounts in quick succession. “Thing is,” he said, continuing to fire his weapon, “these beasties didn’t take too kindly to my wreckin’ up their temple! Can’t imagine why. I was just—AH FUGGIT.” \n \nThe lead raptor crashed into him, sending them both to the ground. Joseph wrestled desperately with the creature, holding its fanged jaws away from his throat with one hand while he scrabbled in the muck next to him with the other. “Gah! Sorry, I’m a bit tied up at the moment. THAT’S MY HAND, YOU BASTARD! You do seem to appear at the worst possible times.” \n \nThe raptor crushed the man’s mechanical limb in its jaws, destroying it in a burst of metal shrapnel and neon fluid. Joseph shoved the broken stump deeper into the creature’s throat, still feeling blindly in the ooze beside him. His breath was coming in gasps now. “Was—GET OFF ME, YE GREAT SCALY SHIT!—was there anything you needed?” \n \nDeath glanced down at the hourglass in his hands. It was a mark of pride for him that he was always on time; just as the last grains of sand fell, so too would his scythe. He was the final thing that every human being saw as their time expired. It wasn’t just a job—it was who he WAS. \n \nBut the sand in this particular hourglass was already still. No granules of life flowed through its inner spheres. The soul this timer belonged to should, by all rights, have been collected years ago. And yet… \n \nDeath looked back at the pair struggling in front of him. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he tucked the hourglass safely into the depths of his robes. \n \n“Nothing, Joseph. Just checking in.” \n \nWith a cry of triumph, the bearded man pulled an obsidian axe from the muck with his free hand. Giving it a mighty swing, he buried it in the monster’s neck up to the hilt. The raptor let loose a shrill cry that ended in a gurgle of defeat, and collapsed on top of him. \n \nDeath shook his head, watching as the exhausted adventurer lay panting in the mud. In the distance, the sound of approaching war drums filled the air. \n \nSome people, he thought, are just too fun to kill.", "Bright flashes of light illuminated the smoke and ash that filled the inky darkness. Rumbles of manmade thunder shook window panes and rubble around. David crawled through the rubble like the first creatures that emerged from the primordial ocean. His rage was the only thing holding his body together, the fibers of his muscles were tattered and torn, various bones fractured and snapped. He was a creature of pure hatred. \n\n \n\nA shadow watched him struggle to move, thrashing and clawing his was out of the building. It was a futile effort, one that any other man would have succumbed to. This mortal was different, thought the shadow. His will was stronger than the pain and suffering the both his body and soul were feeling. \n\n \n\nAs David made his way out of the rebar and concrete he could see several Vrykolatz soldiers throwing naked bodies into a huge pit. His teeth grinded and popped at the horror he saw. Neighbors whom he had seen walking the street just hours ago were now nothing more than charred remain. \n\n \n\n\"B-bastards,\" he said in a feint wishper. \n\n \n\nHe started making his way towards the soldiers again. His nails were torn and bloody from the constant tries to pull himself forward. \n\n \n\n\"I should take him,\" thought the shadow, \"but I cannot impede this just plight, not yet.\" \n\n \n\nAs David inched his way to the soldiers, he managed to prop himself on a broken statue of a god. He tried to speak to the soldiers, to let them know he was there, but only blood was pouring from his mouth. \n\n \n\nThe soldiers heard gurgling sounds behind them and turned to see David's ghastly figure leaned onto the statue. His body had endured more than anyone they had seen on any battlefield. They spoke in a foreign tongue about what to do to with the figure and decided to toss him in the pit as he was. \n\n \n\nThey approached David and grabbed him under each of his ripped arms. He tried to thrash about, but to little avail. He managed to bite the arm of one of the soldiers, who proceeded to drop David on the ground and kick him. \n\n \n\nThe soldiers argued over the man writhing on the ground, and David could only look up at them with the passion of pure hatred and disgust. They could only look down in fear. Not wanting to tempt fate, one of the men grabbed him by his leg and started to pull him into the pit. David did his best to claw at the ground, but he was far too weak now. \n\n \n\nThe shadow watched and prepared to go and grab the mortal's soul. He would be able to rejoin those for who he mourned, but in a different plane. \n\n \n\nThe soldiers loaded up in their jeep and began to pull off. The shadow slid across the ground to the pit where it looked in. Among the twisted remains was David. And the sight shocked even the shadow. David was slowly trying to climb over the bodies and out of the pit. \n\n \n\nThe shadow knew he should take pity and relieve the man of his pain, but his hatred was far to interesting. He should have given up and died without the shadow's intervention at least three times in that single day, but he was still fighting. His lust for revenge was holding together a broken man. He was fighting fate itself. \n\n \n\nAnd Death has a soft spot for those who fight Fate. \n\nEdit: I know the prompt said years, but I guess this is the start of those years. ^actually^i^misread^the^prompt^whoops", "I sat on the porch of my current house in a rocking chair. I felt tired and worn out. The chair next to me began rocking.\n\n\"My old friend you've come to see what I've been tinkering with this time huh?\"\n\nA figure appeared, with a scythe leaning against the wall. No death didn't come to kill me, we had become sort of friends over the ages. He helped slow my aging down to allow me to live as long as I liked. I still remember that first meeting clearly.\n\nThe sky was a blaze with roaring fires, dead men all around. The trenches stunk of it, but even then I tinkered. I was working on a method to help stop the bleeding from a bullet wound. It involved using a new absorbant which hadn't been fully tested yet, and was only cleared for industrial uses. I'm sure if any of my buddies complained of side effects, they'd remember the worse outcome.\n\nIronically enough the reason for the first meeting was because I had been transfered to a medic team on the front lines and was sent to recover a soldier. As I was dragging him back I felt the world shatter. I awoke to see my body laying there and a dark figure next to me. He wasn't looking at me but what I had in my hand. It was my latest contraption to hold the absorbant and keep the blood in the body. \n\nI awoke again in a field hospital as I watched the black clad figure leave and disappear in the doorway. The doctors couldn't figure it out. I should've bleed out in the field or in transport. I tried to glance down and saw a line of bandages from my navel up to my right shoulder. I knew there was no reason on this earth I had survived.\n\nThat day was almost a century ago now. I've met death a number of times and always when working on different projects. I remember an accident during the Manhattan project, three other scientist were killed instantly when the reaction ran uncontrollably. Somehow I was spared. I remember floating in the capsule out in the vacuum of space between Terra and Luna wondering how we were going to get home. I remember creating a new device and program with a friend of mine, we used an apple with a bite out of it to snub our noses at the religious. \n\nSo many memories, so many lives lived. Now I was tired, I just wanted it to all end. The tv in the living room flicked on, I knew it was death. I should've never showed him how the electronics worked, but he was just as interested as I was.\n\n\"The creator of the newest addition to Google has recluse himself to his retirement home in an undisclosed location. We are proud of the advancements made to roll out the new Google AI and self driving cars.....\"\n\nThe chair creaked as I heard death sit back down again. I knew, I just knew he wast' going to let me stop living yet. He was worse than a child wanting to see what was next." ]	6
	[WP] You find an old notebook of yours on the shelf full of unfinished ideas and projects you had as a kid. You resolve to make your younger self happy by completing every last one of them.	[ "Does it matter what someone wants when they are gone?\n\nMy grandmother died when I was eight. She died relatively young, and we hadn't been close. Her room upstairs was always too clean and white and boring, and I was very easily bored back then. I liked my grandad's house better, because he had sepia photos and little trinkets and my toys on the floor and biscuits. He had a fancy watch he'd worn on his wedding day and never again, and he'd show me it and tell me I could have when I got married. \$He didn't know that I never would.\$ But my grandma was brutal with her own possessions. \"I can't take it with me,\" she'd say, \"and I don't want your dad to have to get rid of it when I'm gone.\" She had the same attitude towards her own body. I overheard her telling my dad that she wanted to be burnt and scattered in the flowers and forgotten. Don't waste your time grieving!\n\nI remembered this at the funeral, when her ornate coffin was being lowered. She'd been separated from my grandfather for nine years, but he spent the next twelve leaving flowers at her gravestone.\n\nI'd been a bit of a morbid child anyway. Soon at school we learnt about the pyramids, the tombs that kings built for themselves, and I became obsessed with the ancient world. At a school trip to the museum to the city, I remember pressing my face right up against the glass to see the mummies, and then a year later the bones of a Roman woman and the tinier bones of her child, and then a curled up body with leather\\-brown skin. I stared at the gap in their skull and tried to imagine what had happened in their brain so long ago. I wondered if this was what they would have wanted. And if it even mattered what they wanted.\n\nI wanted to become an archaeologist, but I didn't. By the time I was twenty, the wishes of the ten year old meant nothing to me. Money was more important. I became a solicitor. I helped people write their wills.\n\nWhen I was forty, I helped my father write his own will. When I was fifty, his dementia had gotten so severe that he couldn't remember me. That was what had scared him most of all, when he still had the capacity to fear. He'd begged me that if he ever lost himself that much, he'd rather be euthanized in minutes than take years to die. But by the time I had really noticed the signs, and booked the flights to Switzerland \\- two there, one back \\- that man was gone, replaced by one who was confused and scared and desperate not to die. The clinic could not accept the wishes of the seventy year old now that the eighty year old was fighting against them. What did it matter what my father had wanted?\n\nHe slowly disintegrated for another three years. When he was finally gone I went through his possessions and found a tattered notebook I'd kept when I was ten. I sat on the bed and felt very small as I read through it. I'd had such strange and insistent hopes back then. There were nonsensical stories about Egyptian tombs and little drawings of my grandfather's dog and theatre tickets stuck on with yellowing tape, but what really struck me were the plans I had made, and the things I had wanted to do.\n\nI had spent my life making sure that what someone wanted still mattered when they were gone. The ten year old me was gone, and could never feel fulfilment or gratitude or happiness to me if I carried out the plans. But those plans still mattered somehow.\n\nSo I retired and went to Egypt. Somehow the Pyramids were greater than I had ever imagined. I could have stared at their red flanks in the sunrise forever, if the sunrise hadn't ended. Then I visited the Valley of Kings, and the tomb of Tutankhamen. Before the visit, I had researched to find an Ancient Egyptian phrase expressing well wishes towards the dead. As I met the golden eyes of his death\\-mask, I whispered ancient words. There was nobody there to understand, of course.\n\nI toured the ancient world for the next few years, paying special attention to tombs, especially those that had been robbed, either by grave\\-diggers millenia ago or archaeologists a century ago. There were many graves preserved in Greece. Long ago, they had honored their dead by winding ribbons around the little columns, and pouring out wine. I could afford the most expensive wines, yet I drank little myself. I travelled through the Greek countryside, constantly uncorking a bottle to make offerings to the spirits. It didn't matter that I didn't particularly believe in spirits. They did, and that was what mattered. And my ten year old self had believed that it mattered.\n\nAt the end of this pilgrimage, I returned home. I wasn't sure I wanted to do this next plan. I was growing old myself, and wasn't as strong as I'd been once. But I steeled myself, and on the darkest night of winter, I set out with a shovel. The cold went straight to my bones, but I kept walking. I found my grandmother's grave and began to dig.\n\nAs a ten year old, I'd wanted to grow my own garden, too. It was the last plan on the list. In spring the stems of the pansies began to poke out from the soil, and when they bloomed I scattered my grandmother's ashes. ", "1) Ask out Jennifer Stanton.\n\nI laughed to myself. Oh, Jennifer. Still as sexy as ever. But still making bad romantic decisions. Back when I wrote this, she was dating the school bully, Lee Stokes. Now as I read this, she was dating certified lunatic, Josh Langsing. The same Josh Langsing that had stabbed Lee Stokes with a plastic fork 23 times in fifth grade for getting the last stuffed crust pizza at lunch.\n\nSo, yeah, no. I didn't feel like dying yet. Sorry, younger me, I'm crossing this one off the list.\n\n2) Punch Ricky Harris in the face.\n\nAgain, another laugh. Ricky, the ultimate alpha, that even Josh didn't mess around with? And I was going too??\n\nSorry, younger me, that's another no.\n\n3) Beat Cole Stockington at one game. Any game.\n\n3 strikes and you're out. Sorry, younger me, this is going to have to be a no, too. \n\nCole was a video-game prodigy. The kid was literally the only undefeated player in the entire history of ever. Every video game company wanted to hire him to test their games. He dropped out in 9th grade because why go to school when you're a multi-millionaire video game tester? I didn't even see him anymore except on his YouTube channel.\n\nI closed the book and sighed. What am I doing with my life? There was more names, but everyone had just gotten better at whatever I wanted to beat them at. It was a little depressing. Okay, a lot. \n\nMaybe I should just...I don't know... \n\nThe doorbell rang. I answered it and saw Anna Munroe standing at my doorstep. \n\nShe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down slightly and said, \"Don't think I'm weird, okay?\"\n\n\"Uhmm...\" What do you say to one of the most popular girls from your school telling you not to think she's weird?\n\n\"I was cleaning my room,\" she rushed on, \"and I came across this old notebook. And in it, was a list of things I wanted do as a kid.\"\n\nMy heart began to race. Where was she going with this?\n\n\"I don't know if you remember...\" she said, slowing down; her voice quieter. \"But in kindergarten, I spilled my juice box and you were the only one that helped me clean it up.\"\n\nBecause the teacher had made me. And I was pissed about it, too, if I recalled correctly. I didnt spill the juice, why did I have to help clean it up?\n\nI kept silent and waited.\n\nAfter a moment, she took a deep breath and just let it all out: \"I've always liked you since then. And every since that day... the first thing I had written down on that list in my notebook...\" She looked up and stared directly into my rapidly-blinking eyes. \"....was to one day kiss you.\"\n\nEdit: Freestyle writing in a rush. Hope it came out okay, I'll read it back later.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] For as far back as you can remember, every second of every day, you've heard a ticking noise in your head that no one else can. Then, as you wake on your birthday, you realize it's stopped.	[ "Day 2 \\- April 11th 2018\n\nOkay I don't really know how to do this but I've decided to start this journal to document what the hell is going on. So far everything around me seems to be working fine so I'll probably take some videos and what not but I'm not sure how long the power will stay on. Actually I'm not sure how long anything will continue to work. As someone who is obsessed with space and the universe, basically a physics nerd I'm quite familiar with the fact that stopping time is impossible, and that without time, photons can't move so I wouldn't be able to see, sound waves can't move so I wouldn't be able to hear and electricity can't move so my phone and tv wouldn't turn on. I think it's safe to assume that time hasn't necessarily stopped but... I'm going to explain what has happened so far in case whoever reads this doesn't know. Starting from the beginning....\n\nMy name is Tom Tully and yesterday was my 17th birthday. Something both unbelievable and terrifying has happened. I woke up excited as my parents continued the tradition of letting me skip school on my special day. My dad and I had big plans to go see the new Avengers movie and then go into town to watch the Predators play the Winnipeg Jets in Game 7 of the 2nd round of the NHL playoffs. I remember lumbering out of bed, still groggy eyed and feeling a bit nauseous when I immediately noticed something strange. For years I've been telling my parents, friends and anyone who would listen about this noise that I could never shake. This piercing, protruding, sharp \"ting\" that constantly bounced from one side of my skull to the other. I honestly don't remember when it started but I remember going to the doctor sometime in the first grade after I started crying because the \"ticking\" in my head was too loud for me to write a math test. Oh boy, I'll never forget how scared I was getting an MRI at the hospital that day. I can still feel the cold straps over my body and my mom trying to calm me down by telling me that the cool machine was going to give the doctors x\\-ray vision to see my brain. That was far from my last MRI and far from my last doctors visit to try and figure out what was causing the \"ticking\", as we continued to call it. Unfortunately, no one was able to figure it out and I sort of learned to deal with it over time by plugging in my headphones and listening to music whenever things got too quiet. Well yesterday morning was the first time that I could remember that I didn’t hear that ticking. It was so great, I was ecstatic. I collapsed to my knees when I realized that my ears were free to enjoy the silence around me. I stayed kneeling for a good couple minutes appreciating the sound of nothing until I realized that the silence must mean that mom and dad were still asleep. I got up, swung the door open and sprinted out of my room, painfully stubbing my toe on the pool table as I bolted upstairs from the basement. The table spun me around but I didn't fall and I didn’t care about my toe, you could have cut my leg off and I wouldn’t have cared during that moment. The ticking had stopped! However as I got upstairs and stepped into the kitchen my excitement was halted in its tracks.\n\nMy mom was standing by the breakfast bar holding a nearly empty juice pitcher mid pour, blankly staring at a cup of oj that had overflowed and spilled all over the counter. The juice was now dripping over the edge and on to the floor. My mom often zones out when shes in deep thought but this was different, I immediately knew something was wrong. ”Mom!” I shouted. No reaction. “Mom you’re spilling everywhere” I walked over to her and reached to grab the pitcher. As soon as I graced her hand she collapsed to the floor, “MOM!” I screamed, terrified as I caught her before her head hit the floor. “DAD GET IN HERE! SOMETHING IS WRONG” I panicked as I grabbed the rag off the stove handle behind me and formed it into a makeshift pillow to rest my mom’s head on. She continued to stare blankly at me, no movement, no breathing, no reaction at all. I tried lightly slapping her face to see if that would wake her up but nothing, not even a red mark where I hit her. \"Fuck, I wish I knew CPR\" I remember wishfully pleading. My gym teacher told me that during CPR the chest compressions are often strong enough to break ribs so I didn't want to make this worse.“Dad where are you!?” My heart started to race. I completely forgot about the fact that the ticking had stopped. I got up and went looking for my dad as he kept all of the cellphones in his room overnight. He always said that staring at a phone before sleeping would melt my brain and now I'm starting to think he may have had a point. As I ran by the living room that’s when it hit me. I could see through the window that a man and his dog were also frozen outside. The dog, a golden retriever, had it’s tongue out and was mid step while the man had let go of the leash but still had his hand out as if he was holding it. I probably stood there gazing at that dog for a couple minutes but it felt like an eternity, \"what is happening\" I said under my breath. I rushed upstairs to my parents’ bedroom to see if my dad was also frozen. When I opened the door he was standing in front of the mirror opposite of my parents bed inspecting a pimple that must have recently sprouted on his neck. He too was a statue, not moving at all. I grabbed all the pillows and blankets off the bed and put them on the floor around my dad. He was a bigger gentlemen so I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to catch him like I did my mom. I slowly reached out and touched him. He too just buckled to the floor. I didn’t even make an effort to catch him. For a second I was like him, just stuck, unable to respond. He crumpled into the pillows, his head facing me with the same focused, slightly angry stare he was giving the pimple in the mirror.\n\nAt that point I ran down the stairs and swung open the front door and ran outside. I went over and touched the dog and just as expected it too collapsed. At this point I wasn't even being careful. I touched the man and looked down at the pretzeled, lifeless human figure on the sidewalk. There was blood starting to trail from his hair on to the sidewalk, the fall must of cracked his head open. I remember an immense dizzy feeling, like I could feel the world spinning around me. I looked around me and realized that this must actually be happening. The quaint suburban road I lived on had 4 separate car accidents. I knew the drivers must have also frozen and crashed into the things around them. \"Is this a nightmare? No everything feels real\" I said outloud. All of the sudden my mind jolted. It's like it re\\-calibrated, or turned on for the first time since I walked into the kitchen. At that moment I knew that the ticking must have had something to do with this. That there is no way that this annoying, often debilitating thing that has plagued me my whole life just happened to stop and didn’t have something to do with this. The ticking was ingrained in my mind, it always felt like a part of me. Now all of the sudden it's gone and everything else in my world is literally crumbling. \"What is going on?\" …." ]	1
	[WP] Reincarnation is real and for every good and bad deed points are added or substracted to your "Reincarnation Points". These points determine your next reincarnation. When you die you realize you have been reincarnated as a fly. Of course your memories from your previous life are intact.	[ "So this is it? This is the punishment I get for all my crimes? All those years i spent trying to repent and the Big Guy punishes me to be a \"Maggot in death as I was in Life\". Jokes on that guy I'm only gonna' be like this for 48 hours, ha 48 hours of feasting and fucking. \n\n\nIf I'd of known this was it I wouldn't have felt so damn guilty for so damn long about that whole Stevens' business. \n\n\nI mean a family comes home while a guys trying to work... Stealing their personal safe. \n\nHey asshole, I never said i was honest.\n\nAnyway the father, whose some open carry dipshit decides to put his whole family in danger by sticking a fucking piece in my face. \n\n\nYou know what actually fuck that stupid mother fucker, I'm glad Chris painted that idiots skull across the wall with a sawn off. I still don't think the kids should have seen it happen, but that guy well that guy had it coming and i guess it's a good lesson for the kids not to be a fucking hero.\n\nOh shut the fuck up asshole don't judge me. \n\nIn fact you know what, if I'd have known this was all the punishment I could get I would of tried a few moves on that sweet little wife of his too. She was strangely attractive with that spittle flying out of her mouth as she screamed and tried to shield her children with her body. The lioness protecting her cubs.\n\nOnce I get through this whole fly thing I'm gonna be back out in the world; new human, new body, new villain.\n______\n\nFor so long now I've been a maggot, then a fly, then death. Maggot, fly, death, repeat. I've seen my wife die, my children die, my grandchildren die, grandchildrens' children die. I've tried to resist my instincts of feasting and nesting on their corpses. Failed. \n\nThere is nothing else only me the maggot, no matter how hard I ever tried to make up for my mistakes I never can. Maybe I am the asshole!" ]	1
	[WP] You are a soldier in Earth's Army, sitting inside your tent alone the night before a decisive battle, writing a letter home that will in 100 years be featured on Ken Burn's descendant's documentary- THE NEPTUNE WAR	[ "Mariah, \n\nI’m not sure when you’ll get this. Even with the new system in place it’s getting harder and harder to send communication off planet. By the time you get this I’m not sure what will have happened to me. Whether I’m alive or dead will be something of a mystery. I don’t say that to scare you. I have every intention of making it home, whenever that may be, but after what I’ve seen I’m not sure I can make any promises. \n\nWe lose soldiers by the dozens every day, and even more are injured. A great deal of the men and women fighting now have some sort of cyber-augmentation. Even after losing their arms, legs, eyes, even after losing their minds they’re forced to fight. But I don’t suppose that’s a secret. Anything you hear from the news on Earth is a lie, but anything from the United Mars Federation is completely true. They can’t sugar coat the hell we’re living and so they won’t bother. \n\nIt’s incredible really. That this idea of “Manifest Destiny” somehow managed to expand to the stars. The UMF really pissed of some big wigs on Earth. An entire planet of people from different backgrounds and countries, working together under one unified rule with no conflicts of interest? From an Earthling stand point it seems like nonsense. Even their satellite colonies are treated well. I still want to go there when this is all over. I want to be done with the pettiness of Earth. Squabbling over territory, money, resources, rather than looking for solutions. We wage unnecessary wars, Mariah. If you’re attacked and provoked then you fight back, but what we’re doing here on Neptune? Mariah, I had a bunk mate killed for his rations. People are turning not just on the enemy but on each other. I don’t know who’s an ally or an enemy anymore. And it’s driving me mad. \n\nMy tour is up in a few months. I fear that when you see me next I’ll look quite different. Paler, smaller, a fraction of the fresh faced recruit I had been. My hair is lighter too though I’m not sure if that’s from fear and stress, or because of the lack of sun. In any case, I’ll be different when I return. That being said I want you to understand something: if I die here or I take too long coming home should my stay be extended, it’s okay to move on. I still love you with all my heart, but it’s okay to see other people. I’m afraid that if you wait for me too long the woman you fell in love with will be a shell of her former self. And if I do die her then I want you to know my final thoughts will be of you, and that little ranch we could’ve had on that big red planet. \n\nYours forever, \n\nLance Corporal Allison T. Mgwhe \n\n\n\n\n[Message intercepted en route to recipient]\n\n[Message Status: low morale, lack of faith, depleted mental status, possibility of defection]\n\n[Rerouting to High Command]\n\n[Suggested action: Court martial, execute] ", "Narrator: The battle of Tritons Landing was a brutal engagement set on securing Neptune’s moons. \n\nJune 11, 2301\nDear Marie,\nThe bombardment has raged on too long. Ships go down by the minute. The UNSC says we must land under all circumstances. This may be my last later, but you must know I love you. Take care of our daughter. And if I pass, move on. I was here for only a fraction of our lives, you still have many more years to live.\nTruly yours,\nLieutenant, Tim O’Conner.\n\nLieutenant Tim’s landing shop was hit miles away from Tritons surface. He is still regarded MIA.", "Dear Brad,\n\nI write to you now, on the eve of our greatest battle, to clear up a few things.\n\nYes, I know, most people would be writing loved ones or sending hopeful missives back to earth, or using a holorecorder like a civilized person instead of pen and paper that I have to find an artificial gravity chamber to even make work. Whereas I am feeling old-timey and you, Brad, are someone in a position to make what I'm writing heard.\n\nBecause if there's anything more powerful than love, it's the urge to correct people who are absolutely wrong. And you, good sir, are absolutely wrong.\n\nYes, even here on the edge of the system where we have to wait at least four hours just to watch it live, we see War News Tonight with Brad Tofferson.\n\nWhere to start? I guess the biggest thing, the thing you're constantly going on about, is that Neptune is not real!.\n\nNo, the planet's real, come on you know that's not what I mean. I mean every segment you do, you feature an image of some shirtless beardy trident dude, like we're actually fighting the Roman god of the sea. Half the time your stock imagery is actually of Poseidon, by the way. Here are the actual facts: Yes, there is a madman calling himself Neptune, also claiming to be the god of the sea, BUT:\n\n* He's actually General Morwin Franks. Yes, that General Franks, of the Ceres Oppression. Apparently the whole thing left him a little bit unhinged.\n\n* Neptune (the planet) might not actually even have seas! We don't know, it's a freaking Ice Giant and we've explored very little of it. There would need to be just the right pressure/temperature band where water can stay liquid and while we know there's water we don't yet know if it's liquid. But that doesn't even matter because...\n\n* Franks isn't even on Neptune! His base is on Triton which definitely doesn't have any seas because it's mostly Nitrogen. Also it orbits retrograde which is a gigantic pain in the ass. Seriously Brad nobody on your show has even the slightest understanding of rocket science.\n\nAND ANOTHER THING!\n\n* Stop calling Neptune the \"Farthest planet from the sun\"! First, Pluto is a planet again thanks to extensive lobbying by Plutonians. Second, even if it wasn't, you're forgetting about the crowd-discovered and unfortunately crowd-named PlanetMcPlanetface.\n\n* We do not eat food nearly as good as the 'soldiers eating food' stock footage you apparently appropriated from the early twenty-first century. We eat paste. This is the point at which some would correct me and say that what we actually eat is nutrition-enhanced protein slurry and not actual paste, but you haven't eaten it. Go and grab some, and then tell me whether or not we're eating paste.\n\n* WE DON'T HAVE LASERS! For fuck's sake, we use up almost all our power either staying warm or staying cool, we don't have the kind of energy to spare shooting lasers.\n\n* THERE IS NO SOUND IN SPACE! You run actual footage of bombardments and then add in lasers and sound! Neither of those things exist! Well lasers are real but you wouldn't be able to see them. And while I'm at it:\n\n* EVEN IF THERE WAS SOUND IN SPACE LASERS DO NOT GO PEW PEW PEW! Seriously, Brad, do you think it's a video game up here? If so, it's the shittiest video game ever to exist, and I'm including Sonic Goes To Mars in that comparison.\n\nOh, Brad, you have no idea. You just have no idea. There are so many things that your show has gotten wrong, and now that I've got an exclusive audience - can't let people know you threw away a letter from someone on the front lines, after all - you're going to hear about each and every one of them. So next up is the issue of robots. While the killbots are correctly named, they don't alw\n\n[This message has reached the operating buffer capacity and has been truncated. Thank you for using SpaceNet! When you think 'literally the only option for sending messages in space', think SpaceNet!]" ]	3
	[WP] You are an ordinary FedEx mailman. After a long day, you find you still have one more letter to deliver, and the location is Hell. You decide to deliver the letter.	[ "“Oh Lenny, it’s not going to be the same without you.” Mrs. Duchamp smiled weakly at her mailman. She was going to miss the portly moustachioed man that brought some joy to her dull days. Her cat apparently felt the same as he wasted no time rubbing against Lenny’s legs.\n\n“I’m gonna miss you, Mrs. Duchamp. And you too Mr. Whiskers.” Lenny chuckled heartily as he bent down to give the old tom cat a pet before reaching out to hand over Mrs. Duchamp’s mail for the last time. Instead of taking the mail from him, she’d shot off like a rocket, deep into her floral\\-and\\-cat\\-themed house. She whizzed back with a brown paper bag whose contents smelt delightful. \n\n“This is for you. A parting gift.” She says, making the trade of mail for whatever deliciousness awaited in the paper bag. She placed the bag into Lenny’s satchel. She pulled Lenny into a hug, her small frame barely reaching his chest and her arms struggling to encircle his large waist.\n\n“You be sure to come over for some tea and cake, Lenny. Mr. Whiskers and I will be waiting.” Mrs. Duchamp pulled her robe tighter around herself and watched Lenny’s retreating figure.\n\n“Goodbye Peggy. I’ll be sure to swing by!” Lenny carefully closed the old lady’s front gate and waved goodbye as he hopped onto his red bicycle. He rang the bell for good measure and continued on his way, his satchel \$full of goodies given to him by his clients as parting gifts\$ jovially hitting his leg as he rode. He loved his job, but he revelled in the fact that he was one delivery away from retirement. Now, he just needed to figure out how to get to hell. \n\nLenny stopped in front of a park bench and peeked into the bag of goodies he’d been given. Blueberry muffins – scrumptious. He ate one happily as he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t a flashy model but it did the job. He entered “hell” into his mapping system and waited as his phone sorted itself out. He was half expecting the phone to regretfully inform him that his location could not be found but to his surprise a route mapped itself out. \n\n“Well look at that!” He chortled to himself. \n\n“Hey Lenny! Nice day for it!” A passer\\-by called out.\n\n“Afternoon Max! Say hello to the wife and kids for me.” Lenny grinned as he hopped onto his bike, whistling as he did so. A ring of his bell, and he was off. \n\nTurn left at the roundabout.\n\nHe obeyed his phone.\n\nContinue straight for 3km.\n\nLenny shrugged to himself and continued on his merry way, waving to his old clients as he did so.\n\nTurn left at Hull Street.\n\nTake an immediate left at Beezle Avenue.\n\nTake an immediate left at Lucky Fern Street.\n\nTake an immediate left into Satan Court.\n\nContinue to the end of the road.\n\nLenny rode his cycle up the court, marvelling at this area he’d never delivered to. It was grim, run\\-down and smelled faintly of rotten eggs. The sky seemed darker and the air felt thick and warm. He spotted a single person sitting outside one of the dilapidated houses. The man was pale, bald and draped in all black. His skin looked shrivelled and his eyes looked sunken into his skull.\n\n“Hi there, neighbour! Weather’s taken a turn for the worse.” Lenny gave his trade\\-mark grin but got a scowl revealing rotted teeth in return.\n\n\"Mea navis volitans anguillis plena est”. The mysterious man hissed at Lenny. Lenny stopped his bike.\n\n“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” \n\n\"Mea navis volitans anguillis plena est”. The man shuffled up to Lenny until the men were face\\-to\\-face.\n\n\"Mea navis volitans anguillis plena est”. He spoke wildly but deliberately. His breath smelled rancid and up close you could see his skin was rotting. \n\n“Ah gee, I’m afraid I can’t figure that one out.” Lenny looked apologetic. He couldn’t stand the odour coming off the guy, but he did his best to remain polite and unoffending. He rummaged around in his satchel and handed the man a strawberry cupcake \$baked by Trisha Martin if he remembered correctly\$ – he looked like he could do with some cheering up. The man took the baked good with much suspicion. \n\n“Say, do you know where 666, Satan Court is?” Lenny asked. The man immediately made a horrendous screeching sound before shrinking back in fear. Hid eyes were full of fear but he managed to raise a single finger to point at the ramshackle house which loomed at the end of the court.\n\n“Gee, thanks, Sir! You’ve been mighty helpful.” Lenny shot the man a thumbs up before continuing on his way down the street.\n\nEnter 666 Satan Court. \n\n“Well isn’t that neat!” Lenny marvelled at just how precise his GPS was. He hopped off his bike but walked it with him to the front door. The door was unlocked. The moment he opened it, a blast of heavy, musky, warm air hit him. He didn’t let that dissuade him, and entered the house with no fear. In the entry way was a pentagram with lit candles.\n\nEnter the portal to hell.\n\nHe did as his phone commanded and stepped into the ritualistic looking scene. The floor parted and instantly Lenny felt his stomach drop. He was falling, falling, deep into the bowels of the earth. He wished hard for a soft landing, but instead fell onto a rocky surface. His bicycle fell a few seconds after him. Lenny was thankfully unharmed except for a slight skinning of his right elbow. There was a huge map mounted in front of him. He searched for the giant red spot and the phrase “You Are Here” and found it tucked neatly away in none other than hell itself.\n\n“Tickle me pink!” He exclaimed as he pulled himself to his feet. He checked the letter in his bag for the address. It had neat lettering on the front.\n\nMr. Peter McCormick\n\n10, Georges Avenue\n\nFiery Pits, Hell 6668\n\nLenny righted his bike and continued on his journey, humming to himself as he rode. He took in the molten lava lakes and the brimstone surroundings. The smell of sulphur was heavy in the air and occasionally the smell of rot would waft past. Suddenly a huge figure appeared in Lenny’s direct path. He did his best to swerve and narrowly avoided hitting the monstrosity in front of him. \n\n“Golly gosh! Are you alright, Sir? I didn’t see you there.” Lenny apologised to the thing in front of him. It was ghastly, and something about it chilled Lenny to his very core.\n\n“Who are you?” The thing asked without opening its mouth. Its many eyes bulged out of its head as it spoke.\n\n“Say, I’m Leonard Biggins. The mailman. I’ve come to deliver some mail for a Peter McCormick.” Lenny said, his cheery nature faltering ever so slightly as he realised the gravity of his situation.\n\n“You lie, human.” The thing boomed as it raised a mighty fist as if to crush Lenny.\n\n“No, Sir! It’s the truth. Here!” Lenny fumbled as he grabbed the last remaining letter in his satchel and thrust it in front of one of the monster’s oddly\\-placed eyes.\n\n“That’s impossible. Nobody ever delivers our mail. No ordinary mailman would ever make the arduous journey to hell to deliver a letter.” The monster sounded incredulous. \n\n“I’m no ordinary mailman.” Lenny’s voice grew more confident. The monster laughed \\- a horrible booming sound that shook the earth. \n\n“Follow me human.” The monster said. It bared its sharp teeth in what Lenny imagined was a smile.\n\n“Petey’s my neighbour.” It explained as it took giant steps to who\\-knows\\-where. Lenny arrived at the small house. It was somehow worse than the houses on Satan Court and he could hear long piercing screams coming from inside. \n\n“Petey’s getting his daily flailing, but I’m sure he’d answer the door if you knocked. Have a good life, Lenny Biggins. You’re an alright guy.” The monster clapped Lenny on the back as he wandered off, probably to terrorise some poor soul who’d been sentenced to an eternity in hell. Lenny approached the door nervously, raised his hand and knocked.\n\n“ARGH! Who is\\- ARGH! Who is it?” Peter was clearly speaking between blows.\n\n“It’s the mailman.” Lenny smiled as he said his line for the last time. \n\n“ARGH! I’m just in\\- YOWCH! The middle of something. I’ll be right\\-* OW*! Out.” Lenny waited patiently and before he knew it Peter came out with a tattered robe on. He was covered in blood.\n\n“Nice of you to make the trip. Mailman never do.” Peter explained, wincing slightly as he reached out to grab his mail.\n\n“Ah, I’ve been waiting for this for 85 years.” Peter chuckled.\n\n“I’m glad you finally got it, Sir. You know, you’re my last job. I retire tomorrow.” Lenny chuckled.\n\n“I hope it wasn’t this hell business that drove you to it.” Pete laughed along.\n\n“Oh no, I love my job. Gonna miss it.” Lenny said, scrunching his moustache up. \n\n“Wait right there.” Peter said, hobbling off into his dark house. Two devilish looking tormentors regarded Lenny curiously.\n\n“Sup.” One finally said.\n\n“Nice to meet you.” Lenny grinned in return.\n\n“Here, it’s not much, but I baked ‘em fresh today.” Peter handed Lenny a brown paper bag full of something that didn’t smell quite as good as Mr. Park’s pumpkin pie. \n\n“Thanks Peter. You have a good day now. You too!” He called out to the tormentors, who shot him a peace signs before immediately returning to their task of beating Peter McCormick. Lenny took a peek inside the bag he’d been given. He couldn’t quite make out the contents – it was something slimy looking with a smell to match \\- the gesture still touched Lenny’s heart. He rode all the way home with a smile plastered across his face. \n\nHe entered his small cottage and found his missus in the kitchen, hard at work making his favourite dinner – cottage pie.\n\n“Goodness love, you’ll never guess the day I’ve had!” He exclaimed." ]	1
	[WP] You see the same person waiting at the train station every morning, as you walk past. Only, the train station has been closed since as long as you can remember. Today, you decide to talk to them.	[ "\"I see you here every day,\" I told him. \n\"I'm always around,\" he replied in a voice that creaked out of his jagged smile. \n\"Don't look like the train's comin',\" I continued, unsure of even why I had stopped to chat this morning. \n\"Well, it'll get here when it does. As things do.\" \nI turned my head, half a step away from the waste of time when something popped. Just over my shoulder and right behind my ear, something like a cap-gun from the Saturday westerns I'd seen as a kid. Warmth enveloped me like a thick blanket fresh out of the dryer or a roaring fire at my back and I paused in my stride,lost in memory so strong I could taste it. Summer afternoons on the water, where the wind whipped the spray off the bow and through my hair.\nI turned back, sure I had to something but for the life of me unable to discern what. \nA train was waiting, all blackened steel and polished chrome and brass. The whistle blew, last call before departure. \nI waved goodbye as the ferryman, still standing there at the defunct station, faded into the distance.\n\n\n\nend\n", "David waited for the sign to change from “Don’t Walk” to “Walk”. He stared rather absentmindedly down to his phone scrolling through his Facebook feed. He didn’t even know why he did it. He hated social media, or so he told himself, but nonetheless he continued to mindlessly swipe onwards – paying little attention to what he was reading. “Severe Wind Warning...”, an article on his feed read. He came somewhat out of his trance to acknowledge this one, “Glad that work trip was cancelled”, David thought. “Would have been flying out today”. David hated flying. But deep down, in his secret heart, he was afraid of not being in control.\n\n “Walk” illuminated in in his peripheral vision, and he looked up to continue his journey to work. He made the same trip every day. David likes routine. Routine is controllable. He stopped at the same coffee shop every day. Made the same small talk with the owner, Calvin. His timing so rhythmic, he even hit the same “Don’t Walk” signs. He also made the same small detour every day. While the rest of the pedestrian traffic continued forward, David made a sharp right through a small alley. This was out of the way, but for some reason he had taken this route on his first day of work and now it was simply part of, well…routine.\n\nThe alley was dark, in contrast to the bright sun being reflected off skyscrapers on the main route which he had just detoured from. The air was also calm, despite the high wind warnings. The alley was short but it felt long each time he walked through. The scenery was normal enough for what you'd expect…garbage cans, fire escapes rising to the buildings between, and the smell of old cigarettes - no doubt from the employees of whatever businesses the doors budding up to the alley led to. \n\nBut something always felt off. It was something you could feel, but not with any of the five senses that could be used to describe it to someone else. Regardless, he moved on, into the clearing where the sunshine began to brighten again. The sun, for a moment, seemed different in the same way that the alley felt as he entered. Not different today from other days, because after all – this was routine. It was always different from when he entered. He stepped out onto the sidewalk to continue his commute. Already feeling better now that he was out of the alley, he picked up his pace and took in the sunshine with a smile, walking this stretch of sidewalk for his last time in life. This block was almost empty of people. This wasn’t a main route for commuters and the area on this side of the alley was much more run down, not yet touched by those do-gooders over at the city’s “Revitalization Project”, David guessed. He would only walk on this side for a block, then he would cross back to the main route by taking another side street, which was only slightly bigger than the alley. \n\nRight before the side street which led back to the other side, was an old run-down train station. The orange tinted bricks which used to house the station, lay littered around the remains of the still standing portion of the structure. The letters “NCP” we’re engraved into the white washed stone that was part of the otherwise brick arch which was still standing, by what David assumed used to be the entrance. As he continued, David saw, as he always did, the man sitting on the old weathered bench just “inside” the station which was for the most part, all outside without a roof or all of the walls to house it.\n\nThe man sat straight up, centered on the bench, looking straight ahead. The bench faced away from the sidewalk on which David walked, so he could never see his face. The man wore worn blue jeans, black leather boots, a denim jacket, and what appeared to be a cowboy hat. He would have thought him to be a wax figure if he hadn’t seen him adjust his hat or scratch his nose on some of the other occasions that he passed by. Not this time though. He simply sat, waiting on the train that would never arrive. “What the hell are you doing here?”, David thought for the thousand time. He had thought about a number of possibilities over the course of his many walks. Maybe he comes here every morning to meditate. Maybe he’s homeless and this is simply where he lives. None of that ever explained the outfit, but maybe he’s just another weirdo in a city full of weirdos. He was pretty weird himself after all. His routine would certainly put him in the “weird” category, along with some of his other habits. \n\n“Not today”, David whispered aloud. Today was going to be the day that he broke his routine. For the first time in….3 years maybe? He would not be a prisoner to his own neurotic thoughts. Today he would be free. He veered off the sidewalk and towards the main entrance. He walked slowly under the big “NCP” arch. He felt the same odd, dreamlike, feeling that he always felt when he walked through the alley. He approached the man from his left. The man slowly turned to look at David. His face was pale, with black stubble covering it entirety. Bright green eyes stared at him.\n\n“Long days, pleasant nights. Took you long enough to get here”. The man said. Was that a smirk that David saw on his face? \n\n“Excuse me?” David managed to say through his surprise.\n\n“Train should be here any minute. Why don’t you have a seat?” The man said.\n\n“Who are you?” David asked.\n\n“When I am visible to you, you cannot see me, but when I am invisible, you long to see me. I am plenty with someone patient, but all the scarcer with a hasty one. I am greater than all, but still in the control of those who value my existence. Who am I?” The man said before looking back towards the tracks in front of him.\n\n“That doesn’t make any sense. I can see you now….” David said with growing annoyance.\n\n“Just getting you ready. Like I said, train is almost here. My name is irrelevant and the riddle isn’t the answer, but you may wish you had more if it soon. My work is done here. Time for me to get my reward and get on to the clearing at the end of the path. A train is coming, but not for me stranger. Long days and pleasant nights.” As soon as the man finished talking, David heard a large sonic boom approaching. He turned to look at what could be causing this noise. He saw a pink blur and heard the screeching of steel on train tracks. In an instant, a faded pink train was sitting in front of him on the old tracks as if it had been there all along. He looked back to the man on the bench to find that he was gone. The train looked rather menacing with headlights that he swore looked like demon’s eyes. It looked both ancient and advanced at the same time. The doors to the first train car opened and the train car illuminated inside. \n\nDavid didn’t himself know why he did it. This was clearly not part of the routine. But he longed for freedom. This may be his ride to freedom from his thoughts and his mundane life. He wanted to, no – he had to board this train. He stepped inside and the door promptly closed behind him.\n\n“WHO ARE YOU?” A voice blared from what seemed to be everywhere. “TELL ME WHO YOU ARE NOW OR DIE WHERE YOU STAND!”\n\n“D…D...David. My name is David.” He barely could speak. This was a poor choice. He should not have broken his routine.\n\n“DO YOU KNOW ANY RIDDLES DAVID?” The voice boomed through the train car.\n\nDavid started to say that he didn’t know, but then something told him this would mean death. He looked on the seat and saw a book called “The Mid-World Book of Riddles”. This was going to be a very long ride. Or, hopefully not, a short one.\n", "I don’t know why I stopped and spoke to him on that day. If I had a gun to my head, demanding an answer- I couldn’t have given one. I had been walking that way to get my lunch nearly every day for almost seven years by that point; I moved to the city when I was in my early twenties looking for work and then I just got settled. Got a stable job, met a great girl, got married and was expecting our first child together. The walk was always short- never longer than ten minutes there and back and it allowed me a few previous minutes to myself. I loved it; with the constant changing of the seasons I saw different worlds be born, grow, live their own lives and die as quickly as they had begun. Children on their first high-school lunch break, talking about the lessons they had had, the teachers they absolutely adored and that one Mr Carter who had a distinct hatred for students using their phones in class; for some weird reason. The cyclists desperately trying to beat the traffic whilst obeying, most, of the traffic laws. Office workers having three minutes to somehow go out, get their own lunch and come back to their desks at breakneck speed and, inexplicably, succeeding all the while. And him. He was always there. An ever-constant presence. \n\nThe train-station had been closed for decades now- even I knew that. Once the central hub for everything in the area- when the birth of a city was in full effect- the trains would come and go to all areas of the country; culminating and departing from this very location. But with the new bypass that had been introduced in the 80’s, the station couldn’t survived. With commuters getting the option of taking their own cars, without the extortionate ticket prices with half the journey time; it was a no-brainer. But still- every lunchtime, he was there. To describe him using merely words would be a disservice to him. He looked identical to a 1800’s style butler for a incredibly rich family; a slim, almost skin-tight suit stuck to his old bones giving the impression that this was his only item of clothing. His right hand grasped around a battered, leather suitcase that looked like a breath of wind would cause it to shatter into pieces whilst his left arm remained glued to the bench he was sat upon- never moving. His legs looked like one limb that a knife had simply sliced into two; barely enough meat on his bones to allow him to move in the first place. But his gaze never faltered. His eyes never dropped. His grip never loosening. He stared out from within the train station; gazing out into the city- watching every happen as I did myself. \n\nMy legs made the decision for me. I was debating whether to go bold and try the new sandwich in the window, with the knowledge I would panic when arriving at the counter and get my usual; tuna mayo on wholemeal bread with a latte. However- I quickly realised I was crossing the road directly in front of the man. Again, it seemed like he couldn’t even see me as his eyes didn’t even blink when he saw how abruptly I had turned. I climbed the grey, crumbling steps and walked over to him. ‘Is it ok if I sit, my legs are killing me?’ I asked casually. The man maintained his steely gaze and didn’t acknowledge me. I sat down anyway. Now that I was this close to him- I could make out details I couldn’t before. What I had first thought to be a flat cap was actually a incredibly well kept head of white hair that was so well maintained it felt like I was sat next to a corporal in the army. His hands, whilst clearly strong, were riddled with wrinkles that looked like a birds-eye view of a river with hundreds of little streams joining the central flow. It was his eyes however, that caught my attention; they were soft. In complete comparison to his exterior, his eyes conveyed emotion, loss, sorrow and grief more so in anyone I had met before. I instantly felt sorry for the gentleman and wanted to help. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, why do you sit here every day?’ The question had left my lips before I had time to realise I had said it. I panicked, realising how weird I must have looked so I apologised and got up to leave. \n\n‘Michael, don’t go’\n\nThe voice came from behind me and was just louder than a whisper. I froze. The hairs rose on the back of my neck and I could feel sweat start running down my forehead. How did he know my name?\n", "“Excuse me, what are you waiting for?” I asked.\n\n“The train,” she giggled as if it was stupid question. Her blonde hair was in harmony with the sunlight. And she wore very interesting expression. \n\n“But, this train station closed ages ago,” I said with hesitation. I didn’t know the woman was in her right mind, though she didn’t strike me as a lunatic at first.\n\n“Time flows, everything changes. Train moves, time changes,” she said.\n\n“Oh, really?”\n\n “And when train moves, everything changes,” she added with smile.\n\n“Oh…yeah. You are right,” my smile was a fake copy of hers. She was crazy after all. “Good day, Miss.” I turned and began to walk away from the place. But after a few steps the voice of her caught my ears like a hook.\n\n“Wait Ed.”\n\nI stopped. “How do you know my name?”\n\n“I know this sounds crazy. But, Mr. Mandelbort, you are my husband. And this is the day when we met.”\n\nHowever, it was the hot summer day, my blood froze in my veins, I felt cold in my bones.\n\n“Ed, look. If you want to know the truth you must come with me,” she said.\n\n“To come with you? With your non-existing train?”\n\nShe began to whisper under her breath and suddenly I saw the train coming toward us. It was crazy, but it was really a train.\n\n“Now do you believe me, my love?” she said. “Come.”\n\nI blushed when I heard words “my love” and already began to argue inside my brain either it is a dream or not. When I got on the train passengers began to run toward me and called me “savior”. Most of them wore ragged clothes and were black-skinned.\n\n“What is going on here?” I asked her in low voice.\n\n“You and I saved them. Of course, the idea was yours. We transported these slaves in the eighteenth-century America to the regions where they would be safer than where they were,” said the blonde woman with the same low voice. “We are Interrupters.”\n\n“What is that mean?”\n\n“It means we are messing up with past and future. But we don’t get any credits for our works, others get instead of us. This train is designed by angels for time travelling.”\n\nI was enchanted like babies who grab their first toy. But it didn’t matter this is an illusion or dream. I felt myself like a hero. And I liked it very much. “Anyway, what is your name?” I asked.\n\n“Eve.”\n\n", "I sighed and looked down at the smartphone in my hand. Six new mails? Hadn't it been only like 5 minutes since I last checked them? Probably something important.\n\nI reached the small abandoned train station and with a familiar motion my head turns right. It was curiosity that made me look that way, wondering if he was there. And ofcourse he was, as always. I only ever saw his backside as he was sitting there on the bench. They grey hair peaked out from below his hat, a cane rested next to him, leaned against the bench. And like always I wondered who he was, why he was here. Judging from the cane it wasn't the easiest thing from him to reach this station on top of the small hill. \n\nI managed to do another four or five steps until I stopped. I turned around. Not far from me some stair led up to the old platform, the handrail rusty and the stone slaps covered in moss. For a moment I forgot where I was and why I was in a hurry, forgot the pressure and, … and before I managed to remember I was already up the stairs walking slowly towards the man.\n\nAs I approached him he turned his head slightly, a curious smile on the lips as he spoke.\n\n“Good Morning.”\n\n“Morning.”\n\nI had read there there were fake train stations close to nursing homes where patients with dementia would end up so that they could be picked up again. But I did not remember any facility of that kind in this area. I pushed the thought aside again and looked down at the small old man sitting on the bench. Lines on the face, grey hair, hands folded in his lap.\n\n“I wanted to ask what you are doing here” I said after a moment of silence.\n\n“I am sitting here.” He explained the smile still on his old lips.\n\n“I see that. But why?”\n\n“Here I find peace.”\n\nI paused for a moment. Somehow I expected an answer like that. But then again I was puzzled by the determination with which the man expressed what he was feeling.\n\n“How does one find peace at an abandoned train station?” I asked and carefully sat on the bench next to him. \n\nHis view wandered into the distance and for a moment he grew quite before answering.\n\n“Forty Five years ago I sat on this very bench. It was an evening and I came here to buy some cigarettes. I was at a crossroad in my life, my girlfriend just noticed she was pregnant, my job was hell. \n\nAnd as i sat here, the cigarette in my mouth I noticed I had everything on me. Papers, Money, Passport, all I would have to do to escape was get into the train.”\n\n“But you didn't?” I asked.\n\n“No.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“I don't know, I just sat here.”\n\n“And why are you coming back here?”\n\n“When I come home later today, my wonderful wife will be waiting for me. Maybe one of our children will come and visit us, bring one of my grandchildren. I come here, day after day, only to find out that I am glad I did not take the train.”\n\nWe both sat there, silent. Looking at nothing particular until he broke the silence.\n\n“Mind if I ask something now?”\n\n“Shoot”\n\n“What keeps you from taking that train?”\n\n“What makes you think I want to?”\n\n“Everyone thinks about that some time.”\n\nI nodded and thought about the question. My job with my own secretary, the chance of becoming a senior partner in a few years, the relationship with my girlfriend, the flat we thought about buying.\n\n“Maybe it's just the fact that the station is closed.”\n\n\n---\n\nIn german there is a word called “Sehnsucht.” You would translate it to desire, but its more. If you translate the two words it consists of you get:\n\n“Sehn”: To long for something\n\n“Sucht”: Addiction\n", "That’s it. Today is the day I ask him, I thought to myself as I veered off the sidewalk and up the ramp to the dilapidated train depot. I had passed by for years and wondered what the man was doing, waiting for a train that would never come. I had been in this city for 30 years, taken the same route to work every day and had never once seen or heard a train come through. Surely he was just some crazy old man. But my curiosity had grown increasingly over the last few years. \n\nAs I approached him, he spoke. \n\n“I’ve been waiting for you.” \n\nStartled, I stopped just a couple feet behind him to his right. “For me?” I asked. \n\n“Yes. I’ve been waiting. Waiting for you to believe.” \n\n“Believe what? I was just going to ask why you’re here every morning, without fail, waiting for a train that never comes,” I said. \n\n“Oh the train comes alright. It comes every morning. It’s you who never comes. I see you walk by, wondering but pretending not to notice. Intrigued but never courageous enough to stray from your routine.”\n\nWhats going on here? I thought to myself, hesitant to continue our conversation. \n\nHe continued, ignoring my hesitation, “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. For you to believe. But the interesting thing is, you already believe. You’ve just been too scared to come. To afraid of the unknown. Too afraid of what you may find. But I can assure you, there’s a place where you belong. A place where an entire community has been waiting for your arrival.”\n\nI swallow back my words. Sweat began to form on my brow. All at once, I know. I know. \n\n“Why didn’t you call out to me? Any of those times I passed you by, why? You could have told me to come,” I said. \n\n“You have to be ready, ready to leave all of this behind. You have to make the choice. All that you know will exist no more if you come with me,” he replied. \n\nSuddenly my mind was racing, I became lost in my thoughts. I thought about my childhood. How I always knew the right thing to say to someone when they were having an emotional crisis. How I always knew how to reach those who others thought were too far gone to save. I thought about the time when I was 12 when I found a man who had died alone. How when I touched him, he opened his eyes and told me I saved him. I was sure he was tricking me but he was sure in his words. \n\nI thought about 17 year old me. How I met a girl who was dying. She had been diagnosed with an incurable cancer. Even after moving thousands of miles away, I thought of her often. One day, in my late twenties, a woman called out to me on the street. It was her. She had somehow survived. Not just that, but there wasn’t even a trace of cancer left. I had gone to say goodbye and hugged her. I told her she would be ok. I hugged her. \n\n“I’m ready. I believe,” I said. \n\nThe man smiled. A train appeared suddenly. The door opened. I stepped inside. ", "I see him everyday on my way to the metro. This train station, where they frequently linger, has long since been abandoned from as far as I can remember. It wasn't apparent that they were vagrant, since he wore nice clothes, a messenger cap with a blue vest over his long-sleeves most of the time, and seems to read the newspaper and possesses a luggage bag half my size. Maybe it's time to check what her deal is. It's my day off anyways.\n\n\"Hello there.\" I said to this mysterious person.\n\n*\"GENERAL KENOBI!\"* she replied, in a loud, garbled voice, loudly crumpling the newspaper she held. She startled me, which ended up with me jumping backwards, almost falling over. \n\n\"Oh I'm sorry!\" she said, putting away her newspaper, placing it over her luggage. In all the time I've been passing by here, noticing her, it never crossed my mind she was a woman. \n\n\"Don't worry,\" I replied, fixing myself after probably looking like a fool. \"I'm fine.\" reassuring her, smiling. Hopefully I didn't look to creepy.\n\n\"Come,\" she said, patting the bench she's sitting. \"sit with me.\" She moved to the side of the bench, inviting me over.\n\n\"So,\" I said, sitting beside her. \"what brings you to this place almost everyday?\" I asked, turning my head towards her.\n\n\"Oh nothing, just --\" she replied, looking ahead. \"--admiring the view I guess.\" \n\n\"But there's nothing here but an apartment complex and the diner.\" I replied. I mean there really was nothing here. The local park had been closed for 7 years now, with the children's playground abandoned and overgrown with weeds. Any sort of scenery was, in my opinion, 6 blocks away, crossing the bridge.\n\n\"I also check for anachronisms every once in awhile.\" she said. \n\n\"What's that?\" \n\n\"Oh, don't worry. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with.\" she reassured me, placing her hand over mine. \n\n\"So,\" she continued. \"I apologize for what happened awhile ago. I pegged you for someone who liked Star Wars memes.\"\n\n\"What's a Star Wars? Or a meme for that matter?\" I asked. I knew nothing of what she was talking about.\n\n\"Oh, sorry. I guess it's something you haven't heard of yet.\" she replied. Her watch started making a beeping noise, which I too was unfamiliar with. \n\n\"I'm sorry.\" she said as she stood up. \"I have to go. An appointment, you see.\"\n\n\"Ah, then it's best you get going.\" I said, looking up at her.\n\n\"It was nice talking to you.\" she said, smiling while pulling her trolley. \"I hope I get to see you again.\" she said, before walking away.\n\n\"Same time tomorrow?\" I asked, smiling.\n\n\"Sure.\" she replied, with a smirk on her face. I looked at her while she walked away from me, crossing the street and into an alleyway.\n\n\"Well old boy,\" I said to myself, pulling out a notebook of reminders I'd always carry. \"See her again, tomorrow. 8 o'clock. June 20th, 1970.\" I wrote in my notebook. \n\nI really hoped I'd meet her again.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nFeedback and criticism much appreciated", "There was something about the way he stood there; not the slumped-shoulder look of defeat or confusion that he should have worn. He had, after all, been standing in that same place every morning at ten for as long as I could remember. For as long as anyone could remember, in fact. For the last 20 years of my life, I had been walking this way into town for one reason or another. When I was little, it was to school. Now, I honestly just enjoyed the view. It gave me time to clear my head. The gravel crunching underneath my feet was like a close friend. The warm breeze blowing through the trees was ever-present. No matter what the weather was like, or what was going to kill us this week in the world, this stretch of road was a constant. It was always sunny. The breeze was always warm. The air always smelled clean.\n\nIf someone asked what made me stop, on today of all days, I couldn’t tell you. There’s no reasonable explanation. Hell, there’s no reasonable explanation for why anyone would walk into an abandoned decades-old train depot and talk to a random stranger. It was just something about the way he stood there. It was like he knew the train was coming. The windows of the station were busted out. There was no one at the ticket desk. The antiquated vending machines outside had long been emptied of the treasure they guarded, probably by teenagers looking to get their munch on after smoking too much of some substance or another, or maybe by some homeless or transient person down on their luck looking for the only sustenance they would have that day. The track itself ran parallel to the station on the opposite side of the road, but it was broken in places. Grown over, even. It ran into the ground just a few feet past the end of the train platform. If someone were looking closely, they might catch the pieces as they popped back up down the stretch of road.\n\n Yet the man stood there still, unmoving, unyielding, waiting for a train that would not arrive shortly after ten. He wore a suit that, had the year been 1920, would have cost a fortune. Very possibly it would have been worn by a lawyer or a fancy rich businessman. It was in perfect condition. He very obviously took care of that suit. Wherever he had found it (or maybe it was inherited?), he certainly got lucky that it was in such good shape. Grasped in his hands were the dull gray unmistakable pages of a newspaper. I never got close enough before today to see the headline or the name of the paper, but he was obviously a creature of habit, and perhaps loyalty. After all, one had to be quite loyal to some idea or concept to stand waiting for a train that, after a delay that spanned decades, had still not arrived.\n\nAs I said, I could not tell you what made me do it. Something about the man, and even the train depot as a whole, called out to me. My stride shifted, almost without my permission, towards the depot. The man did not hear me approach. If he did, his comportment did nothing to reveal as much. I climbed the three stairs to the depot entrance and veered toward the station platform. I opened my mouth to call out a greeting, but that felt wrong. I closed it again. The man glanced up from his newspaper. We made eye contact for a split second before his gaze drifted lazily back down to the paper. I sat on the bench and looked over the cracked red paint adorning the walls. As I studied the small flakes of red (probably lead-filled) that spidered across the surface of the wood, I could almost feel the place come alive. I could hear the people that once stood here, waiting for their jaunt into the city to begin. I could hear the soft clunk of the wheels on the track In the distance. I peered into the solid window next to me. Inside, I could just make out the silhouette of wooden benches affixed to the floor.\n\n“You know, if you want to ride the train, you have to buy a ticket.” His voice startled me, probably very noticeably. It was soft but deep. It was kind; I suddenly felt more comfortable. \n\n“Yeah. That’s how trains work, isn’t it?” I said. He glanced up from the paper and again made eye contact only briefly before returning to its folds. “Where am I gonna get a ticket? What train will I ride? Have you seen this place? There’s no train. One couldn’t reach this platform if it wanted to.”\n\nIn answer, he folded his paper into one hand and simply lifted his thumb to point over his back at the ticket desk. It was in surprisingly good shape for being left abandoned in the weather like it had been. What the hell? I walked over, and was surprised to see a box sitting atop it marked “FARE 50¢”. I grabbed two quarters out of my pocket and slid them into the slot. When I turned back to face the man, my jaw hit the floor. Seriously. It probably even made a dull thud when it did. I don’t know, truthfully, because I was too stunned.\n\n\nWhen I turned back to face the man, I was greeted by the sight of a full-size steam locomotive that, from my vantage point atop the station platform mere feet away, appeared fully operational. It drifted by with many loud clunks and chugs, and eventually came to a gentle stop. The man approached the train but paused before getting on. He reached his hand out and caressed the side of the train as one would caress the face of a lover, perhaps in greeting after a long absence, or simply when struck by a moment of deep affection. I blinked, and the moment was over. The man stepped aboard and entered the train car. I crossed the station platform and hesitantly reached my own hand out. I was scared, but the train seemed to exude an aura of calm and safety. I placed my hand on the polished metal and found it warm.\n\n\nThe window beside me clicked, and the man stuck his head out. “Are you coming?” he asked.\n\n\nI grasped the handrail and placed one foot on the step. I could hear voices coming from inside the car. They sounded cheerful, or happy, even.\n\n\nI stepped up onto the step, then the next one, and one more time before I stood at the door to the car. \n\n\nMy hand grasped the door handle without my permission. I pulled. The door opened.\n\n\nThere’s no turning back now.\n" ]	8
	[WP] The Demon Lord of Hell is far from home. With what little powers of fire and brimstone he has left, he braves the frozen and forlorn wastes of the North, searching, for a way back home.	[ "The Demon lord was lost. His only comfort was the remaining fire in his heart, warming his whole body.\n\nHe had tried to defend his lands from conquest, against another nameless country trying to take over Hell and 'save' the souls of their loved ones.\n\nHe trudged along in the cold and unfeeling snow, whose every particle seemed to judge him for evil. The snow flakes seemed to want to take away his warmth from him, make him perish forever.\n\nA part of him wanted to let the snow do so, part of him wanted to find his way back home, to the great halls of Hell. The great Demon lords of Hell each had thrones their own kingdoms, in which they rules their lands with fiery passion and peace.\n\nUnlike how Hell is portrayed in the books of religion in the surface kingdoms on planet earth, it is a place of passion yet not suffering. A battle waged long ago between heaven and hell saw to it that the victor, heaven, got all the benefits of the war, including rewriting history. A picture was painted, saying that the war was between good and evil, not that of differing ideals.\n\nThe snow did not know this. The people, who lived in the land that was currently in the same snow storm, who were living in tiny houses spaced far apart, didn't know this either. Nor did those foolish rulers, who waged war against Hell itself, knew this. The animals, the trees, the unforgiving mountain-steps and the malicious blizzards all seemed to conspire against the one being they saw as the all-out incarnation of pure evil.\n\nIt was all wrong. The humans should have forgotten by now, but they now used this fake history to light a fire of falsity within themselves against evil.\n\nThe Lord, fallen to disgrace, eyed a lodge in a distance, hearing sounds of cheering men and laughter of women. The sound reached the cold and frozen ears of the hot-blooded demon.\n\nHell is a place for passionate people. People who chase dreams automatically inspire a fire in their hearts and souls. This fire is what makes Hell so hot. The heavens mischievously called Hell 'a place of suffering'.\n\nThe demon knew the secret behind this word 'suffering' and pondered on it while walking past the lodge. The coldness didn't get better, as it started making cracks in the demon's dark skin. Its eyes were completely dry and so was his bald scalp. His bare clothes were no more accompanied by his heavy and intricate armour that was long forgotten on his battlefield.\n\nThe demon started forgetting where he fought too; surely, it was in the land just north of here, or was it south? His sense of direction was as hindered as his ability to walk in a straight line.\n\nThe blizzard played tricks on the demon, not very unlike a mirage on human in a desert.\n\nThe demon sought refuge under a nearby tree. This tree seemed not to care that the person who sat under it was a demon. It loved everything unconditionally, for it only knew love. Every fleeing couple, every happy family that it saw in it's time showed it what it is to love without judging.\n\nThe tree was, however, silent. The demon finally opened his mouth and said something over the sound of the blizzard.\n\n\"Did you know that suffering and passion are connected?\"\n\nThe tree knew neither of these emotions and remained silent.\n\n\"To have passion for something, is to say that you are willing to suffer for it.\"\n\nThe tree noted these wise words.\n\nThe fire in the heart of the demon remembered the thousands of millions of artists and painters who worked hard to realise the dreams they couldn't on the surface. They were suffering, indeed. But in suffering to reach their dreams, they are not being tortured, but being given opportunities to perfect.\n\n\"You may think that we tortured people in hell, especially as I was a demon lord.\"\n\nThere was short pause as the demon tried to protect his fading thoughts.\n\n\"But we never laid a hand on a single person.\"\n\nThe tree nodded, but it was hard to tell whether it was shaking or nodding because of the storm.\n\n\"I know what happens when a human dies, but what happens when a demon dies, I wonder?\"\n\nThe demon closed it's crimson eyes, whose fire was smouldering like a quickly abandoned campfire. The demon's body disintegrated into dust, swept away by the wind." ]	1
Saw it on an AskReddit thread about the humans using 'Endurance Hunting'.	[WP]Dread it, run from it, the human still arrives.	[ "Umbra was collecting the mystren eggs when she heard the drums. \n\nHer gentle hands, which were gently brushing the scaly spine of the nesting mystren, froze. Her eyes flew to the entrance to the moss-covered chamber. The lizard groaned and pushed against the girl, slithering back to its nest.\n\nThe drums came again. Deep and rumbling, they echoed down the passageways, through the tunnels, and into the cavern. \n\nPuhpuh BOOM. Puhpuh BOOM.\n\nHer heart was in her throat, but nothing was certain yet. \"Just a call to attention,\" she said. \"Not uncommon.\"\n\nThen came the horn. Three long, low blasts groaned as they rolled through the caverns, followed by a fluctuating higher blast. And Umbra knew. \n\nShe shot up from the nest, tipping over her basket of eggs at the start of her dash to the cavern wall. Mystren hissed as she accidentally trod on their tails, but she hardly noticed. \n\nWhen she reached the wall, she leapt up toward it, using the uneven grade as footholds until she could pull herself up and peer through one of the lightbays. Fog obscured, only letting through a pale shine that hurt her eyes, but after a few moments it cleared and her heart froze. \n \nBy the Ledge, hundreds of feet above the perpetual clouds, were three great ships, built of that strange brown material and hovering by some wicked power. Figures teemed on the ships and one by one, smaller crafts pushed away from the giant vessel and descended toward the ledge. Dozens of them, each crowded with dark, faceless figures. \n\nThe Spiremen had come. \n\nUmbra scrambled back from the lightbay, toppling into a pile of moss. A mystren regarded her with a flick of its forked tongue. Breathless, she pushed to her feet and made for the entrance, leaving. Eggs cracked beneath her feet. She flung the gate open and left it so as she left the chamber behind. \n\nThe tunnel was dark, but before long it spit her into a wider passageway. To the right, it opened into the Great Cavern. She could hear shouts, cries, the screeches of raptyrs. The Spiremen had entered the city. Her eyes burned and she tore of to the left, toward her cavern. \n\nHanging moss hung from the entrance into the cavern; she pushed through it, disregarding the bugs and critters falling into her hair. \"Mama!\" she cried. \"Mama!\" \n\nTwo dozen stone houses crowded the chamber, stacked on top of one another, carved from the dark walls. She scrambled down an alley toward the staircase that led to her own home. \"Mama!\" she cried for a third time. Her voice echoed off the walls. \n\nA hand reached out and clasped her shoulder, a second covering her mouth before she could scream. The vision of a Spireman, with his light hair and rosy skin, wicked eyes and rotted teeth, flashed through her mind and she lashed out her arms, hitting every thing she could contact.\n\n\"Shh, shh,\" a gentle voice whispered. \"It's me, Umbra, it's me.\" \n\nHer arms fell limp and her eyes grew hotter as she turned and saw the face of her brother, Oscor, squatting beside her. He wore a smile, but his eyes watched over her shoulder. Faint screams came from behind. \"You have to stay very quiet,\" he said, his voice low. When she gave him an affirming nod, he widened his smile and then stood up. \"Come.\" He led her to an alcove beneath the stairs to their home and pushed through an alcove. He pulled out a hanging moss curtain and let Umbra go first into a pitch-dark passageway. \n\nIt led to a small cave. A single candle shed light on a crowd of pale faces. Three older men knelt near the front, holding curved blades and wearing scaled armor. \n\n\"Umbra!\" called her mother, although she was shushed the moment the word left her mouth. With a hand before it, she ran toward her daughter and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Umbra's eyes burned again as she buried her face into her mother's arms. \n\n\"Did you see anything?\" one of the men asked her. Umbra shook her head, leaving streaks of tears on her mother's gown. \n\n\"We heard the fighting,\" Oscor said. \n\nThe man shook his head. \"I can't believe they came here. It's deep, deep in our own territory. How?\" \n\n\"Maybe the Lightwraiths will save us!\" a woman muttered. \"They've fought off the Spiremen many a time.\"\n\nA wizened man along the wall clicked his tongue. His red eyes flickered in the candlelight. \"Foolish, foolish,\" he said. \"The Lightwraiths will not help us. They will not know. The enslavers...they cannot be stopped.\" A great noise came from outside. All those within bristled. \n\nEven through the thick moss curtain, the shouts of fighting could be heard. Umbra clutched her mother harder, her nails puncturing the fabric, her heart thrashing against her chest. \n\n\"I remember the days before,\" the old man continued, \"when we lived our lives by the perpetual clouds without a fear of what came from above.\" He tutted and chuckled. \"I've lived through three raids in my lifetime. Each, I've escaped. Each, I've expected to be the last.\" \n\nUmbra wanted him to stop talking. The words themselves were hopeful, for perhaps they would be spared. But his tone was empty, flat. It echoed in her mind, sending waves of unbridled fear through her. Several panicked shouts followed muted hissing from a raptyr. Moments later, there was a great, pained screech that chilled the bones of those listening. The raptyr had fallen. \n\n\"You cannot stop them. Not anymore. Dread them, run from them, do anything you can think of to stop them. But it does not matter - no, no, it doesn't.\" Umbra shifted her head, her eyes peering over her mother's elbow as she was slowly cradled back and forth. The noise from outside loudened. The old man leaned his head against the wall and curled his lips into a tight, joyless smile. \n\n\"For the Spiremen will still come.\" A placid sigh followed the old man's words and his eyes closed. \n\nThe chaotic ramblings of a strange tongue echoed as the moss curtain was ripped down and the Spiremen, wielding broad blades and fueled with battlerage, roared into the cave.\n\n----\n\nThanks for reading. This is an auxiliary piece to contribute to the world I am building called The Spires. It will be the setting of my novel for NaNoWriMo. Check out my sub, /r/penofigilix for updates as the year goes on.", "\"No! No! Please, I-\"\n\nThere was a loud cracking sound, and then silence. In the dark of the hideout, a female began to sob, ever so quietly. And though her cries were scarcely more than a breath, she was shushed anxiously by those around her. No chances could be taken, not with the humans. \nTyann's grip on his rifle tightened. It was an awkward weapon for him, as it had been designed for humans, who had two more fingers than him, but it was infinitely better than any weapon his people had ever seen. Beside him, his brother checked the sights on his own gun - his \"shot\" gun. In Tyann's tongue, the words used to name the shot-gun were directly translatable to deathstick. The rifle in Tyann's own hands was called what could be taken to mean holestick. Or rather, it would have been, if the humans had bothered to try to understand Tyann's kind.\n\nTyann held up a hand, to silence his companions, and pressed the side of his head to the hideout's hatch. He heard the humans march away, laughing and saying things to each other that he didn't quite understand. He caught something about home, and wife, and tight. These first two words meant something to him, but he could make no connection between them and the succeeding adjective. He pushed these thoughts from his mind, and signalled to everybody that he would open the hatch. He did so, his breath as shaky as his hand, and peeked out. Smoke was everywhere. The acrid smell of the powder used by humans to make their deathsticks and holesticks work hung in the air. Tyann had to hold his breath for a moment to stop himself from coughing. That's what the humans had done, before invading. They had poisoned the air with their fumes, the fumes of the stuff that fuelled their weapons, their vehicles, and maybe even themselves. Tyann had no way to be sure. He whistled, and waited. A whistle was sent back, so he waved to the residents of his hideout.\n\n\"Come,\" he said. \"Quickly!\" \nThey came. \n\"Go down there, to the next hole.\" \nAnd they set off, all the old males and the females with their infants. One child, being held to his mother's chest, peeked over her shoulder and stared at Tyann as he was carried away. Tyann thought they looked accusing. He shook himself, and turned the other way. He raised his holestick, his brother approaching and raising his deathstick. They began walking, as alert as they could be, and reached the smoking, rubble-strewn remains of what had been their home.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Reann,\" said Tyann. \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\n\"It's alright,\" said Reann. \"There's nothing to be done. Come, let's move on. Together.\"\n\n\"Together,\" echoed Tyann.\n\nBut they were stopped in their tracks by a blinding light. They shrieked, throwing their arms up to shield their burning eyes.\n\n\"Corporal!\" shouted a man, though the two didn't understand him. \"Put that damn lighter away!\"\n\nThe light suddenly disappeared, but it was too late for Tyann and Reann's eyes. They dropped to their knees, clutching for each other.\n\n\"Damnit, Roberts,\" said the man, annoyed. \"Look what you've done. Put them out of their misery, quick, and let's move on to that group they left behind.\"\n\n\"Yessir.\"\n\nTyann and Reann didn't understand a word of this. They simply knelt there, clutching each other, quivering ever so slightly.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Reann,\" whispered Tyann, his voice hoarse. \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\n\"It's alright,\" replied Reann. \"There's nothing to be done. But it's alright. We're together.\"\n\n\"Together,\" echoed Tyann.\n\nAnd then the human turned his deathstick towards him and fired.", "They give you all of the pamphlets, refer you to support groups and try and explain how difficult it's going to be, but none of that really prepares you for it. Even if you have every resource and self help option, being alive after a tragedy where, \"it could have just as easily been you,\" doesn't come with a clear direction on how to get through it. That's survivors guilt for you, and I've been struggling with it a lot, lately. It keeps me up at night, and pushes my body to the limits of exhaustion before it lets me rest. I can barely eat without throwing up, and the joy I found in my passions has completely disapeared. I don't deserve to be happy, to be okay, to be alive, and that's what my mind and body keep repeating to me, over and over again. \n\n\"You'll get through this! It just takes time.\"\n\nThat's the only thing my friends and family can manage to say to me. All they see is a man sulking around, dragging his feet and feeling sorry for himself. In their mind, they think I'm lucky to be alive, and that's as far as they can think about it. I can't blame them though, because I've been coasting for the last 6 months and dealing with me must be tiring. Hell, dealing with myself is tiring enough, and knowing that a wave of dread comes with me anytime I step into, I don't blame them for being \"over it.\" But they don't know this feeling, none of them do. They don't know that I've tried the support groups, read all the pamphlets, tried the medication for my insomnia and mood swings, and none of it helps. It just adds to the fog surrounding me, clouding my vision and sense of purpose. I survived, and it's the worst thing that ever happened to me.\n\nI know I should feel lucky, that the event should have put things into perspective and given me a renewed purpose in life, that it was a sign from god or whatever power is out there, watching over all of us, but the truth is, none of that shit matters. What I do after this doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I'm still here, and I shouldn't be. I messed with the grand scheme for everything, and it haunts me. My body has become frail and delicate, I've lost all of the color in my complexion, and my voice is barely a whisper when I can finally manage to make a sound. The only comfort I can find is the conversations I have with myself on these notebook pages, because then at least I'm talking to someone who gets it, who feels the exact same way I do, and that's why I keep telling myself, \"it's called being human, Mark.\"", "I had heard whispers of them. They spread slowly, but it seemed with each season, they rumors grew closer, more common. \n\nAt first, I feared them not. Why would I? A so-called human has never once disturbed me. They come from a strange, distant world, further away than anything I can see or understand. And that is how I believed it to be. \n\nBut as time passed on, it became more real. My nights were filled with cold shudderings, my days hot, but muted, cries. My disbelief turned into worry and my worry into fear. As I extended myself into my extremities, into those around me, I could hear it. I could feel it. \n\nThe rumbling grew louder. The ripping stronger. The screams rolled over the hills, trickled through the streams. The clouds and rains carried their torrid stench, their caustic death. \n\nNow, here I stand. The sun touches me more so than it ever has. It scalds and burns when it used to nourish. Toxic air chokes and strangles what it once fed. As night falls, around me, silence. \n\nThere used to be Mahogany and Lupuna, Rubber and Ficus. The Fig cluster, broken and pathetic on the floor before me. \n\nThe sun rises. The humans stir. They rumble. They groan. I dread it, I fear it, but I cannot run. I cannot flee, I cannot escape as their claws dig into the ground, shred me roots. The agony, terrible; the terror, agonizing. \n\nAnd with a final groan, I topple. My branches crack, my leaves crumble, and my life fades as they cut into me with their knives. " ]	4
	[WP] Eleven jurors agree that a young boy is guilty of murder. Only Juror number 8 is doubtful, secretly suspecting that he himself is the real murderer.	[ "The rest of the jurors stared at him in amazement. What could he be thinking? The prosecution had the kid dead to rights, and everyone knew it. His DNA had been all over the girl's body, she had been found only a block away from his home, and he had no alibi. On top of that, witnesses had seen him leaving the pub with her; she had clearly been drunk: he practically carried her down the street. And, yes, if this had been any other case, Juror 8 would not be in the predicament he was in now. But it wasn't. He knew that girl.\n\nGranted, he didn't know her very well. At all, in fact. He had only realized who she was when the crime scene photos had been brought in as evidence.\n\nHe had seen her while out drinking with his buddies, and had immediately been taken by her looks. He remembered telling his friend Mark that he was 'gonna get a piece of her, one way or another.' Then he remembered downing a few more shots and blacking out. Waking up at home with a hangover and a throbbing right hand, he had called the guys he had been out with and asked them what happened. They had told him they took him home after he got unruly. He had laughed it off, not remembering the girl, and not knowing that she had been killed in the night.\n\nHe was known among his friends for being an angry drunk, but not in the stereotypical way. He didn't get enraged at nothing and start throwing chairs while screaming about trifling things; rather, his fury needed a focus. Whenever he was drunk mad, it was because of a specific thing or person, and he would single mindedly pursue the object of his anger until either he was completely prevented from doing so, or had satisfied himself that it was no longer in a condition to piss him off. Usually the result was the former, which was why he drank with a group. But lately, they had been telling him that whenever they would step in he would mellow out pretty quickly, and that they were confident that he was getting over his problem. \"Besides,\" they claimed, \"it's not like you would really go hurt anybody just because you drank a little.\"\n\nNow that he was seeing the facts of the case, though, Juror 8 thought it there was something off, something familiar, about the whole situation. His friends had later mentioned that he got mad because the dead girl rejected him, and hadn't his drunk self done surprisingly intelligent things before? At one of his high school parties, a real banger, he had gotten annoyed with one of the bigger jocks for some reason. Despite seething with hatred for the guy, he hadn't made a move until 4 hours after mentioning it to his friend. The jock had been standing by the pool, he had run up and pushed another guy into him to knock him into the water. He had had to wear a cast for a few months since he wasn't very covert about it and the guy ratted him out. Still, this wily action concerned him, especially now.\n\nSo even though the kid didn't seem very innocent, Juror 8 knew that he could have gotten away with it too, and he voted against the majority, much to their chagrin.\n\nWhat followed was a drawn\\-out discussion. Juror 8 explained his suspicions honestly. He knew he wasn't eloquent enough to dance around his theory, or get the whole jury to change their mind to support him based on some other nonexistent reason.\n\nTheir reception was a medley of shock, fury, and then, surprisingly, laughter. They took turns explaining the case again, and giving him rational explanations for his behavior then and now, winking at each other in amusement.\n\n\"Oh, the stress of the jury is just getting to you. It's your first time right? We all get the butterflies, and I get it, the kid is young, he has his whole life ahead of him, and you don't want to be the guy who prevents all that. But he screwed up. It's his own fault he's here, and he did kill that poor girl without a shadow of reasonable doubt. All we have to do is to make sure he never does it again. It's not like they'll kill him.\"\n\n\"I've known a few guys in the same situation as you, paranoid about making dumb choices when they're drunk, but this is a bit extreme. It's perfectly natural to want to make amends for what you've done, except here you're just suspicious of yourself. You don't have anywhere near enough evidence to stand up against you in a court of law, much less to prevent another man from being prosecuted for an unrelated crime. Your mind is probably just tired from all that drinking, it doesn't pan out in the long run let me tell you...\"\n\nThey were successful. In the end, Juror 8 saw the absurdity of his own position. Am I really trying to get myself imprisoned for something I probably couldn't even have done? They voted, unanimously guilty.\n\nThe string of seemingly unrelated murders that followed Juror 8 were never linked by police. There was always a fall guy." ]	1
	[WP] "You can't begin to comprehend the power within this mask."	[ "\"That's a plexiglass SWAT visor.\" I told the overlord.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" he asked, wearing the visor which clashed with his metal armor.\n\n\"Plexiglass. It's a material they make back at my home. Plastic.\" I responded.\n\nThe overlord turned pale. \"I was going to lock you up and have you lead me to the riches of your world. I though it was ripe for the taking.\"\n\n\"Well, good thing I was here to stop you then.\" I joked.\n\n\"My people are starving. Magic is failing. Tell me, traveler... If you want to be a hero, can you save us?\" he asked me.\n\n\"Sure.\" I said, and held up my smartphone. \"Good thing I still have a connection. Can't imagine why, but I guess it's coming in handy.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You are a six/seven year old. Your parentes tell you the vacuum cleaner is responsible for socks going missing but you know better...	[ "This was it. It was finally the night i was going to confront my parents.\n\nMy socks have been going missing for about three months now, originally they told me that the vaccuum hoovered them up, but as a pattern began to emerge, i became suspicious, afterall exactly one pair of socks every week, yeah right!\n\nI slowly got up out of bed, walked over to the door and peered through it. Not being able to see my parents, i slowly opened the bedroom door and stepped out. The only light guiding my way was the sombre grey glow of the moon.\n\nI descended down the stairs, tiptoeing. I got to the bottom, a large oak door stood in front me that led to the wine cellar. I heard a low mumbling sound from the bottom. Quietly i turned the door handle and pushed it open. A flickering red glow was coming up from the bottom of the cellar, i presumed it was fire.\n\nAs i got to the bottom of the stairs, i saw the figures of my parents so i quickly hid under a table that stood by the last step.\n\"Do we really have to do this here?\" I heard my dad say. \"Yes, we don't want to wake George.\"\nMy dad looked a mixture of guilty and angry, my mum wore a face of thunder. \n\n\"I cant believe your toenails cut another hole in our socks!\" My mum shouted\n\"I know i need to get them cut!\" My dad replied\n\"I swear of George finds out we're replacjng out broken socks with his, I'll kill you.\"\n\nI pressed the \"stop\" button on my recorder. This was all the evidence i needed\n" ]	1
	[WP] All vampires are gifted with ethereal beauty, elegance, and seductive charm. You are Dave, the balding, overweight vampire.	[ "hello, im dave. the transformation went a bit off course from the norm of creepily hot. instead of becoming seductive, i became genial. im like that one great grandfather all families should have. the guy who gives advice, always has a joke or story to fit the occasion, and just generally a cool old man. instead of huddling up in a castle somewhere or becoming evil, i just go to a local bloodbank like most modern vampires. \n\nsidenote: the existence of \"sparkly vampires\" is when someone is turned into a vampire during an eclipse, though some vampiric scholars disagree citing the comet effect", "\"You know, they always make the fucking TV shows about the pretty boys,\" Dave grunted as he flipped through the channels. \n\n\"Yeah they do, nobody wants to see assholes like us,\" Hank replied and finished his beer.\n\n\"Well, they should. Not everybody gets bit when they're twenty-five years old and rock hard.\"\n \n\"No shit...\" Hank said sadly\n \n\"I'm sorry man, I shouldn't have-\" \n\n\"No it's ok, we all got our bite stories.\" \n\n\"Yeah man but what they did to you just ain't right. I mean, sure I got stuck with a beer gut for eternity but...\" Dave stopped himself.\n \n\"It's alright we ain't got to talk about it.\" \n\nDave stood up.\n\n\"NO, It ain't right! Every cold blood bastard out here remembers getting turnt, and getting bit in the dick just ain't right man! You need to be the one on TV! Get your dickless ass out there and I bet there won't be no more cock bite'n whores out here!\"\n \n\"Dave, don't start this shit again.\" \n\n\"No, I'm serious! Stand up man, drop your pants\" Dave pulls out his smartphone.\n \n\"Dude seriously were going to make a video right now. Drop 'em, show the world what happens when you get bit in the dick.\"\n \nDave had made this argument in the past, in some ways I think that he felt bad for me. In other ways, I think it made him feel better. Either way, I wasn't going to show my knub to the world. \n\n\n", "\"I will gift you strength to be able to kill your enemies,” the witch spoke in a soft voice as she traced her finger down the chest of the lean and frail male in front of her. “However,” She laughed, “if you are to be bitten by a vampire, you will become one of the most unwanted vampires of all times.” She looked up at him and took a step back. “You just have to say his name.”\n\nDave nervously laughed, “Once I’m to the point I want to be,” He lifted his arms in confidence and flexed what little muscle he had in a WWE style, “I’ll be unstoppable.” He looked to the witch, whom offered him such an absurd bargain and without a second thought accepted. “Shem HaMephorash!”\n\n“As you wish,” She nodded as she looked at the ceiling at the time the black veils of shadows started to fill the room making everything go black.\n\n\n\nGrowing up was never easy for Dave. His family based his whole life around one thing: kill the vampires. It was that simple. They were an unwanted pest that was taking out families throughout their large city. It had, in the recent years, became an epidemic and the military was recruiting members to hunt and find these vampires and to kill them. However, the catch was, once you did find them they were virtually impossible to kill. They drew people in like a bug to a zapper and then they killed their prey and left so no one could find them or track them. But this, Dave, believed maybe the chance that he could prove to his family that he was something. Maybe this would be something that could make them proud, however, he was going to need help and it wasn’t until he stumbled into the deep web did he come across someone who could promise him any life he wanted, however, nothing comes for free.\n\nThat was the time he meet her and he made the deal and it went according to plan, at least for awhile. With little effort he built his body to much stronger proportions and through schooling became one of many vampire hunters that were walking the streets in order to protect the citizens.\n\nIt was easy to get caught up in time as years passed and Dave had become somebody someone could look up to. He was a role model to his family and also to the new family he had helped create. It was two different lives that he was believed that he would be able to be transposed between with no consequences. However, everything changed on the night of June 6th, 2018. A whole cult of vampires raided Dave’s home killing off his family one by one, in front of him. Forcing him to watch as their blood covered the walls around them. There had been too many of them attack at once that even the strength that he was promised wasn’t enough. This was their way of proving a point, a point that just didn’t stop there. They made him one of them, the very thing he swore to never become and then left him.\nAlone. Alive. Deadly.\n\nAs it may, this was karma. This is what he deserved for being so foolish. He should have never made the deal. Now he was a passenger to a ride he never wanted to take but driven by the sudden craving for blood. It was this drive and being left alone, as his body craved the claret wine that ran through everyone’s veins, did he take out the rest of his family that the cult didn’t kill, his wife. As he ferociously drank the blood of the woman that was his everything did he start to age, bald, and grow ever so ponderous with his ever so hunger only growing stronger. With sudden realization of what he just did, he got into his car and drove as fast and as far as he could away. He never meant to hurt anyone. This wasn’t supposed to be like this.\n\n\n\nDave looked into the bathroom’s mirror of the old abandoned hotel room to only see the reflection of the stall behind him. He felt a tear ran down his cheek as he ran up to the mirror slamming his fist through it. “I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!” He shouted tears now falling like waterfalls from his eyes as he dropped slowly to the ground. “Please, please God, please make it stop,” He spit through his tears as the thoughts of his loved ones that were killed because of his actions, raced through his mind. “I…. never wanted any of this,” Dave whispered as he pulled out the wooden stake from his backpack putting the point on his heart. “Please, please forgive me,” he whispered as he shoved the stake into his chest, everything going black once more as he fell to the ground.", "He had researched everywhere. The library, online, even those blogs the teenage girls made on tumblr. Everything said vampires were these ultra beautiful people, naturally seductive in their force of nature. Everything mentioned elegance and confidence. Sure, Dave could fake the confidence part and try his best at being elegant. He’s done it before but he was a lot younger then too.\n\nNow getting close to his forties and feeling like the forty-year-old-virgin, he’s out on a desperate limb to go back to an old kink that used to keep the gothic clubs up and bouncing at night. The ones where everyone scattered when cops were called. It’s been almost twenty years since last time he went to one and time did not favor his appearance. Balding and obese, he would have never guessed his life would end up this way. He used to be the life of the party. Now the only parties he attends are the ones on Second Life, where he never stopped being the sexy gothic vampire that everyone loved.\n\nBut time had took its toll and self gratification became more depressing than satisfying. He needed his fix, an old kink, and more than just virtually. He was going to become a vampire!\n" ]	4
	[WP] The astronauts onboard Apollo 11 carried fake footage of the moon landing shot on Earth in case they were unable to land on the moon. They were successful but by mistake, transmitted the fake footage back to Earth giving rise to countless conspiracy theories over the years	[ "“So, Neil.” Thomas O. Paine glared at Armstrong over his horn\\-rimmed glasses.\n\nNeil let out a nervous chuckle.\n\n“This isn’t funny, Neil.” Tomas’ fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk in between them.\n\n“It was an honest mistake Dr. Paine.” Neil spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. “There’s just so many switches and toggles and buttons up there. And you labeled it Trans. Terra,” a bemused look crossed his face, “right next to the switch Trans. Earth. Surely you can see how such a set\\-up could confuse a man, in the heat of the moment, putting the two broadcast switches right next to each other.”\n\nThomas’ continued tapping his fingers on the desk for a long moment. “Neil, do you have any idea how expensive it was to film that fake landing?”\n\n“I’ve heard that Kubrick is a busy guy, but\\-\\-”\n\n“More expensive than the rocket, Neil! More expensive than Apollo 11!”\n\n“That can’t possibl\\-\\-”\n\n“Neil, do you know how to film in slow motion?” He stared at Neil, eyebrows up in a theatrically inquisitive fashion.\n\n“You film it at normal speed, and then\\-\\-” he trailed off uncertainly at Thomas’ encouraging eyes\\-\\- “play it back slowly?”\n\n“That’s right, Neil! That’s right! It’s a technique called overcranking where you film something in one speed, and then play it back in a slower speed. Did you go to film school?\" He pointed a finger at him and grinned. His eyes, however, were fiercely angry.\n\n“The backup footage that you sent back to earth was played at 10 frames per second, for 143 minutes of continual playback. That means we recorded 47 minutes of continuous live\\-action at 29 frames per second, and then played it back slowly. Do you see the problem here?” Thomas’ looked at Neil the way a schoolteacher looks out at a silent class.\n\n“I’m not sure\\-\\-”\n\n“That technology doesn’t exist, Neil!” Thomas exploded out of his seat. “The largest known storage device is capable of overcranking 30 seconds of footage into 90 seconds of slow motion, that’s what they use at the ball games! Faking this damn landing required us to use a top secret storage device that nobody knows we have!”\n\nNeil looked confused, “storage device? What about film?”\n\nThomas snorted, \"Right, just splice 5000 feet of film into a continuous answer roll, play it back on screen and re\\-record it at 10 frames per second and then,\" he threw his hands up in the air, \"then just kill the entire film lab I guess, so the secret doesn't get out. No, we had to do it digital, and that's the problem!\"\n\n\"What's the probl\\-\\-\"\n\n“The Russians! You’ve exposed a critical intelligence secret to the Russians! All it’s going to take is one Skeptical Sally to notice the front\\-screen\\-projection lines from Kubrick’s studio shots to get people asking questions about how we managed to fake it. When they start asking those questions, the KGB is going to be pretty quick to figure out we have a massively advanced storage system. This exposes satellite capabilities, audio analysis limits, computer threshholds, the list goes on. You’ve just endangered the entire US espionage effort, the CIA is in an uproar as we speak!”\n\n“Ah.” Neil rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, maybe no one will notice the, uh, what did you call it? Front projectors, or\\-\\-”\n\n“Out! Get Out!”\n\n\\-\\-\\-\n\nBuzz Aldrin sat outside the office as Neil exited.\n\n“Just because I stepped out first, huh? Just had to play the emergency footage with you making the first step.” Buzz stared condescendingly at Neil.\n\nNeil grinned. \"Worth it.\"" ]	1
	[WP] John has a rare desease - all of his senses has 24 hour delay. He purposely lives each day the same way to syncronize delay. But one day his routine goes wrong.	[ "\"My heart rate is 21% higher than normal, ma.\"\n\n\"Are you sure you didn't exercise or something dear? The weather was beautiful yesterday and the sun came out finally. Your father was out in th-\"\n\n\"No ma! It's not part of my routine! It's Tuesday! Not Saturday!\"\n\n\"Honey, you shouldn't snap at me. Your doctor agreed with your therapist, you should try to be nicer to handle your anxiety. You know Sally came by and recommended this-\"\n\nJohn tuned her out. His palms were getting sweaty and there was a lump in this throat. He even got too tongue-tied trying to reply, \"Ma, I go have to... uh... I have to go.\"\n\n\"Call anytime dear, we never see enough of you after you moved away-\"\n\nJohn paced for several minutes, checking his Epipens, Adrenaline Shots, Sedatives, and other emergency medicines. He had to prepare for the worse. And to make matters worse, his food delivery was late.\n\nEight minutes and thirty four seconds later, there was a buzz at his door. \"Finally\". The new food delivery woman just started and was already doing a piss poor job.\n\n\"John! I'm sorry I'm late! They told me to not be late but I was having car trouble.\"\n\nJohn took a look at her while he let her in. She had the same outfit as the last delivery man, but she had a bright purple name badge. Probably slipped in a piece of paper in the back of the holder.\n\nAs she set out the food on the table and began unpacking some of it for the microwave, she seemed to regain some of her composure and started humming to some irritable song. John used this reprieve to turn his mind back to figuring out what kind of panic was plaguing him.\n\nBut he found his attention turning back to her... what was her name... Maria? He began noticing details he never cared about before. And he was obsessive with details. Like how her outfit rested differently against her body. The way her hair was tied back and how it fell on her shoulder. She turned to John and smiled, and started saying something. John noticed she wore her shirt with one button less done up.\n\n\"You should come by for dinner, I mean if you can with your condition. My grandma makes real guacamole you know. Not this fake stuff they give you. It's simply the best you know.\"\n\n\"Oh.. I uh... okay. I mean thanks, maybe, I mean if it doesn't bother you. But I'm usually pretty busy. Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom.\"\n\nExcusing himself abruptly, John began punching into his phone \"physical traits of being in love\" before he made it through the bathroom door." ]	1
LTLFTP Been lurking here for a while and just wanted to contribute something too!	[WP]Ever since you were a child you loved spy movies, the dramatic dodges behind walls to escape certain death. One day while drunk you step around a corner and then double back, for "fun" just as a bullet rips through the floor in front of you...	[ "I drew my jacket over my shoulders as I stepped through the huge doors of the theatre. It was the last showing of the night, and I'd had the place almost entirely to myself. Summer had yet to fully arrive, and the nights were still cool.\n\nI set off through the darkened downtown, a little amped up on the particular energy you get when re-entering reality after a good movie. I'd always loved spy films, the danger and intrigue spoke to the kid in me that was still occasionally tempted to check over my shoulder as I walked down the empty streets, to peer into the dark window of a tinted car as it cruised past, to look for an earpiece on any suited man. And so it was in that mindset that I noticed a white van on the other side of the small canal where I was walking. It was parked alone in the lot in front of an old brick warehouse, and two men in vaguely dark clothes were working on something in the back which I could not see. Before I could stop myself, the kid in me lifted my sleeve to my mouth, as if I were an agent reporting on some suspicious activity. As I turned down the next street and away from the canal, I was dimly aware of the sound of the van starting up and driving off.\n\nAt this point I'd moved on to imagining that the old Asian lady who was spraying out the fish market probably had concealed an Uzi behind the counter, and imagined where I could get cover if she suddenly decided to open fire. From there I began trying to identify every vantage point a shooter could take in the tall urban sprawl that lined the wide street, and as soon as I turned the next corner out of sight of the fish lady, I leapt forward and ducked behind a concrete barrier I'd decided would make great cover. No sooner had the shame of my silliness registered than I heard a deafening crack. My eyes slammed shut as I was showered in dust and bits of concrete. My ears rang. Clutching my ears, and still not understanding what could be going on, I peeked over the top of my hideout, only to be met with another thunderous crack and a fading whizz as the bullet rebounded off the edge of the barrier. There was no doubt, someone was shooting at me.\n\nMy ears were still ringing, but now they pounded with my racing heartbeat as the realisation set in. My whole body tensed up, so concentrated was the adrenaline coursing through me, and I was vaguely aware of a weird smile spreading across my face. I took two breaths, and EXPLODED out from behind the block. I'd always considered myself fairly athletic, but I'd never experienced anything like this. I felt like I was hardly in control of my body, my brain struggling to keep up with my legs as I pounded the pavement, racing to the next corner as bullets sprayed holes around me. I scrambled around the bend, and didn't slow down for what felt like hours but was probably more like 5 blocks, turning at random, an alleyway here and there until I found myself on the third floor of a parking garage overlooking the core of downtown.\n\nThe pounding in my ears was as loud as ever, but now I could feel reality coming back in all its horror, the full weight of it slamming into my chest like a freight train. I slid down the pillar I had leaned against, thought about crying, but decided better of it and pulled out my phone to call 911. Before I could even unlock it, however, I heard a click and felt something cold press itself against my neck. My blood turned to ice.\n\n\"Drop the phone, and don't try anything funny\"\n\nI dropped the phone. \"I think there's been a misunderstanding, I'm not the guy you're after\"\n\n\"I think we both know that you are. You're coming with me, there are people who want a word with you\"", "Ever since I was a kid, I'd dreamed of being a secret agent. Sometimes I'd look in the mirror and pretend I was James Bond. I'd strike a cool but serious pose and imagine that I had a beautiful women on one arm, a cocktail in the other, and a gun attached \\- but well concealed \\- at my hip.\n\nThis fantasy lasted long into adulthood. And whenever I got a few good drinks in me, I would let the double agent act free of the restrictive bonds I so often wrapped myself in.\n\nOn this particular night, I was stumbling toward my bedroom, when I smiled, stepped back, and pushed up against the kitchen wall as if I was moments away from surprising an enemy agent.\n\nIt was, at that exact moment, that a bullet ripped through the floor below. It missed and twanged off the ceiling plaster smashing through a plate on the lounge coffee table.\n\nNever have I ever been so drunk that I've had to question whether I was being shot at.\n\nAs I peered forward, down the hole in my apartment carpet, I saw a man standing below with a gun pointed at my face.\n\nI opened my mouth to say something.\n\nThe man shot. Bullets broke through plaster and zipped up like metal pellet geysers.\n\nI screamed and jumped, not anything like James Bond, but more like a little girl diving into a sandpit. Only my sandpit was the tiled kitchen floor. I screamed again when I landed with a thud.\n\nA loud thumping came from the apartment next door. \"Shut it, Thomas. You're scaring the bloody children.\"\n\nMrs. Humphreys lived next door. She was a fairly large woman, with enough brute force in her voice to make a soldier shiver at the knees, and enough fat on her body to knock you over like a super\\-sized bowling ball.\n\n\"Someone's trying to kill me!\" I squealed.\n\nI took one last peak down the holes in the floor, spotting the man in the dark hooded coat aiming the gun right where I hand landed.\n\nI pushed up and dove over the kitchen counter. Bullets blew holes through my kitchen floor and the lights above. Glass shattered all over the tiles.\n\n\"Are you cooking mash\\-bloody\\-potatoes again, Thomas?\" Mrs. Humphreys screamed.\n\nMy heart pounded in my chest. I would not die. I was a trained agent, a master of fighting and surviving gun battles. I would not die no matter what. I had practiced my whole life for this moment. Even if I had never really been an agent or done so much as had a fist\\-fight since the second grade.\n\nNevermind . . . I was screwed.\n\nShuffling sounded below. The sound of a gun being cocked echoed. I rolled across the lounge floor, pressing up against the far wall. As long as I stayed quiet, I would be okay for now.\n\n\"Thomas!\" More thudding came from Mrs. Humphrey's room. \"You still cooking those bloody potatoes?\"\n\nThe shuffling below shifted towards Humphrey's side of the room. If the person shot, they could injure her or the children she was babysitting for the evening.\n\nI had to be brave, the lives of the children depended on it.\n\nEvery breath I took passed my shaky lips. I tried to quell the shudder in my hands and to keep myself upright against the wall while my knees felt like jelly. A wrong move could kill me but I wouldn't be able to live if anyone else got hurt because of my cowardice.\n\nI closed my eyes and imagined that the alcohol was no longer the key to a farce. Instead, the alcohol became the key for the lock I had kept on my talent all these years.\n\nIn my head, I became James Bond, until I could feel my arms still with a relaxed calm, until the strength in my legs came back, and the sharpness of my mind honed in and I noticed every detail, every crack in the paint, every quiet shifting sound from below.\n\nI walked toward the kitchen, where the tiles had been destroyed by gunshots.\n\n\"Those potatoes are just about done,\" I said, louder than Humphreys needed to hear.\n\nThe man below ran from the opposite end of the room to underneath the kitchen tiles. I focused, noticing the weakest point, the place that had taken the most shots. While he paced below I stood atop the kitchen counter, listening for his movements.\n\nThe man coughed.\n\n\"Mistake number one,\" I said.\n\nI didn't need to see him to know that the man had looked up, right at me.\n\nBut he was too late. I had already jumped and broken through the floor. " ]	2
	[WP] Having learned that their destiny involves causing the death of a loved one, a character tries to cheat fate.	[ "I've never understood where our traditions came from but they were certainly more than just idle practice. On our 13th birthday each of us are given a prediction from a designated elder. One that will tell us the most important decision that will come in our lives. We were to keep it secret and treat it like our destiny. Mine was not so pleasant.\n\n\"Filled with so much emotion, you will decide to end the life of your own mother.\"\n\nThese were the words I heard from the elder. I've always loved my mother. Why would I ever do something like that? She was always so loving and supportive. Now that the day has come I know what the prophecy meant. \n\nEven after so long no matter what anyone else had said I remained stubborn. However deep down inside I know she must be suffering. I'm ready now. I have to pull the plug." ]	1
	[WP] As far as you can remember the five of you have been best friends. One day while hanging out you bump your head, but as you wake up you see your friends for who they really are. The Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse	[ "you 5 are running through the woods happy as can be. You all are the best if friends. You trip on a root and your head slams into the tree.\"ugh\"you grown as you look at your 4 friends and near pass out. They... they... THEY ARE THE FOUR HORSEMAN\"OH GOD DON'T KILL ME\"you cower in fear and they look confused before realizing what happened.\"you don't remember do you\"famine asks calmly\"um remember what?\"you ask\"you are the fifth horseman. The horseman of darkness\"", "\"I'm just saying,\" Helen says, \"just because a bunch of damn 'doctors' says it's right doesn't mean you should vaccinate your kids. I don't care if there's a measles outbreak, Brakayleigh and Paydinne aren't getting any of those damn 'shots.'\" She swipes some of her bleach-blonde hair, darkening at the roots, behind her ear.\n\nOut of nowhere, Janet slamms her glass down on the table. \"You're a fucking idiot, Helen! God, I can't stand any of you!\"\n\n\"Yeah, like you're an expert, Miss Twenty Times Divorced,\" Helen snaps. Janet gets like this a lot; we're all used to it by now. \"Why do you always have to cause drama!?\"\n\n\"Oh, it's not me causing drama, it's the lot of you acting like absolute morons all the time! You're all wrong! You're all dipshits!\" Janet bares her teeth.\n\n\"Yeah, okay,\" I interrupted. \"Can the both of you just shut up? I feel like every Sunday brunch ends like this. Can't we just all, like, relax and have some mimosas after yoga?\"\n\nCarol shrugs. \"Eh, just let them fight.\" She settles back in her chair, eyes oddly dim, face strangely gaunt. \n\nBreaking the silence, Rhonda pipes up. \"Have you heard about my water cleanse? Makkenzy-lynne has lost, like, twelve pounds. I'm honestly so proud of her.\"\n\n\"Ugh, jealous,\" I say, poking at my stomach. After three kids, I wasn't really the skinniest I'd ever been. \"How old is Makkenzy-lynne again?\"\n\n\"She's almost sixteen,\" Rhonda says. \"I'm trying to get her to drop a few more pounds by her birthday. I mean, girl's gotta look her best for her sweet sixteen.\"\n\n\"She looks fine to me,\" I shrug. \"I mean, she can't be any heavier than my own Brittney.\"\n\n\"Ugh,\" Rhonda sneers. \"One hundred pounds is far too much for a teenage girl. I weighed seventy pounds!\"\n\nI cock an eyebrow. \"That doesn't sound healthy.\"\n\n\"Speaking of health,\" Helen interjects, \"there have been so many cases of flu at the clinic. I'm literally so worried about Paydinne, he's a sensitive boy-\"\n\n\"I mean,\" I say, \"you could just get him a flu shot.\" For a nurse, Helen was strangely against standardly accepted medical advice.\n\n\"Maybe he should just get the flu,\" she sighs. \"You know, strengthen up his immune system a bit.\"\n\nCarol readily agrees. \"Paydinne should get the flu. Swine flu. And Makkenzy-lynne looks like an absolute cow, she needs to lose more weight- how will she ever fit in that pretty little dress you bought her at a hundred whole pounds?\"\n\n\"Paydinne just doesn't eat enough quinoa,\" Helen says. Her teeth are blackened in the front. She hasn't eaten anything today, I notice, but has been chewing on ice from her cup. Sometimes I worry about her kids. Helen can be so odd- once I brought orange slices to soccer practice and she threw an absolute fit about GMOs. But whatever. Her husband was a nutritionist, so I figured she had to know what she was on about.\n\n\"All of your kids are spoiled brats,\" Janet interrupts. \n\n\"Excuse me,\" I say, \"Brittany is an angel, and Tammy may be in her angsty teen phase, but she's a total sweetheart, and Aiden is an adorable little boy-\"\n\n\"No one cares about your kids, Karen,\" Janet replies bitterly, lighting a cigarette.\n\nI groan. \"Why do you have to be so needlessly contrary all the time? You're so volatile-\"\n\n\"Volatile,\" she sneers. \"Know-it-all, just because you* married a doctor-\"\n\n\"Doctors are liars,\" Helen says. \"The lot of them. I know what's best for my kids, not some doofus in a lab coat-\"\n\n\"You're an idiot too,\" Janet says. \"I hate you all.\" Then, changing gears completely, \"Hey, Karen, did you hear what Rhonda said about you?\"\n\nRhonda sighs. \"Do you really have to spread all this gossip? All I said was that she could lose a couple stone-\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" I say, \"quit it with the rumors. You're worse than Tammy and she's 14-\"\n\n\"Oh, never mind.\" Janet sinks sulkily back into her seat, but now Rhonda looks insulted, and to be honest, I kind of am, too. I mean, again, I'm a supermodel, but neither are they- and who are the moms from Sunday morning mommy group to judge? I swirl my mimosa. Carol looks at me and Rhonda, almost satisfied, her irises empty and black like voids. Carol is unnerving. I never liked her much, but she's the one who organizes the Sunday mom group brunches.\n\nHelen and Rhonda return to aimlessly chattering about health again, doctors and what they do and how they're squeezing innocent mommies out of money. I did marry a doctor, but he's been overseas for a while now- ever since Brittney graduated, he'd been out of the country. He's a plague doctor, I joke, some sort of epidemiologist whose official title I could never remember. I was never into science.\n\nWe sit in quietude for a while, as we eat and Rhonda crunches ice, when Helen's daughter comes running up to the table. \"Mom, I don't feel so well.\"\n\nBrakayleigh is thinner than I remember, and definitely feverish, but Helen glances at her before declaring her fine. \"Honey, you're so dramatic.\"\n\n\"Mama,\" she says, \"I really, really don't-\"\n\nShe's interrupted by a series of hacking coughs, and red saliva sprays out onto her arm, staining her white top.\n\n\"Stop being ridiculous.\" Helen sips her mimosa. \"Someone has to drive your father to the airport, and he can't do it himself.\" Her husband had been paralyzed years ago, some virus that started with a P, I think. \"Speaking of Tom, have you heard anything from Bill lately, Karen?\"\n\nI think. I actually haven't. Usually he calls me, or at least the kids, to say goodnight to Aiden. \"I don't think so,\" I say.\n\n\"Weird. Where is he again?\"\n\n\"Some war-torn African country,\" I shrug. \"Or maybe Middle Eastern?\"\n\n\"The second one,\" Carol says without hesitation. I don't know how she knows where my husband is, but I don't question Carol anymore. It's kind of like how I stopped sharing recipes with Janet after she flipped over Sharon's table at the PTA meeting because she thought they were rip-offs of her own.\n\n\"The second one,\" I agree.\n\nBrakayleigh sneezes and doesn't cover her mouth. Her eyes are pink, a bloody sort of pink, and now that I look closely at her skin, she has some kind of rash. \n\n\"Get on now,\" Helen says, \"or your father's going to be late.\" Then, looking at me, she adds, \"He works with the U.N, you know. Some peacekeeping thing with the WHO.\"\n\n\"I hate the U.N,\" Janet mutters. Janet hates a lot of things.\n\nBrakayleigh coughs once more, hacking up what looks like a chunk of her own lung. Helen pays this no mind. As Brakayleigh stumbles away from the table, she trips and vomits. Rhonda remarks briefly on how that's good for her, but she shouldn't be eating in the first place, while the girl convulses for a second before getting up.\n\nA look of concern must have flitted across my face, because Helen is suddenly staring at me. There is a deep, intense look in her eye that I cannot name, and I feel an overwhelming sense of dread- Brakayleigh, Makkenzy-lynne, my own children, are intermingled with pictures of Bill and a sudden surge of fear. I collapse back into my chair, panting.\n\nWhen I look up, Carol is smiling at me. \n\n*\n\ntl;dr: pestilence is an anti-vax mom, famine is a diet nut, war is an angry PTA parent who flips tables over stolen brownie recipes, and death itself is a soccer mom. Karen is just along for the ride.**\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] In a not-to-far-from-reality dystopian society, your economic value is determined purely by the number of viral posts you inspire or create. With literally everyone vying desperately for attention, describe a day in the life...	[ "I wake up in the morning and dump my bucket of cut out trending words on the table. \"Baby Real Elsa Poop Spiderman Frozen Finger-Family Death Real Minions\" are the words that landed face up. This is the title of my new video.\n\nI then film my hands playing with cardboard cut outs and making strange noises. Some crying, some laughing, and always some farts. This should appeal to the biggest job creators...little toddlers who were given mommy's IPad to keep quiet.\n\nI repeat this as many times as possible in a day. The grind is hard and unsatisfying. I desire strongly to one day be killed in a freak helicopter accident. If only of video of that wouldn't violate Youtube's terms of service." ]	1
	[WP] Every time you click your mouse, an awesome event happens to you the next day.	[ "As fun and exciting as it was at first, soon the thrill of receiving a free taco turned sour. For every click, there would be a taco. Checking emails made up a family pack, editing a document netted a feast, and playing a strategy game yielded an end to world hunger.\n\nBut, in my woeful ignorance, I doomed the world. For a sought to cheat a clicker game by way of macros. I set a program with one simple task. \"Click as many times as possible\" and let it run.\n\nThe click counter went up thousands by the second, so fast even the game could not handle. I let it run...for hours. Oh how I should have stopped that damned machine.\n\nThe morning after, I wake to a rumble growing ever stronger. I rush outside and see...it...A consuming wave. Millions, no, TRILLIONS of tacos rushed towards me. Beef Tacos, Lime Chicken, Fish Tacos, and Vegan Tacos all melding and mixing into a delicious rapture. One for every click.\n\nI was overwhelmed, crushed benieth the zesty consequence of my hubris. Despite my best attempts, I could not eat my way out. I, along with everything on earth, died full of tex-mex treats.\n\nThe fiesta was over." ]	1
	[WP] You’re a guardian angel. Its a thankless job, mostly following around your human for their entire life while invisible. It can get pretty dull without much “guarding” happening. One day your charge suddenly stops walking and says, “you still haven’t figured out I can see you?”	[ "It is real simple. Really though. Everyone is assigned a guardian at birth. Alas not every guardian is the same, and not all of them are really excited about doing this. Usually after the few years where we are really needed(looking at you babies that are only out to get themselfs killed) we just get a little bored. It helps that in the beginning the babies are able to see us. We are a trusted face and keep you calm through most of the day. Most lose the ability over time. Some last longer than others, maybe untill their 8 or 9, but then we just pretend to be an imaginary friend. Now nobody really remembers their early childhood, and the ones that do remember their immaginary friends are to far and few between to raise any suspicion. \n\nThat's where I come in. Hi there my name is Joe. No not some fancy smancy name like Ezechiël, those are only reserved for the higher ups. There are as many Johns and Carls looking over you as there are Johns and Carls on Earth, but I digress. The hierarchical struggles of a lowly guardian angles aren't really the interessting story here. No my storie is a little different. You see my kid Richard, or Dicky to his friends and family, was weird. From the earliest of his days he wouldn't react to me at all. As if he couldn't see me. Now we guardians do not posess many powers. We can tuck your shirt lightly when you're about to cross the street and get hit by a car. We can manipulate a falling object to just miss you when it would have actually hit you. And one of the most usefull powers, we can alter the way we are percieved by our kids. Usually we take the form of a relative, maybe someone that looks a lot like mom or dad. But it didn't matter what I did he would not react to me. It was quite hard on his parrents because a baby that can't see his or her gaurdian angel is usually very frightend. Richard would cry all the time, and his parents didn't know what to do with him. \n\nSo this went on for a few years, and because he couldn't see me, I just decided to float above Richard. Now the crying stopped at some point of course, when he grew older he became more reserved and learned to live like the rest of the humans that had forgotten their angles. Usually whenever he met someone new I had to explain to theird Guardian that he could never see me, but that it did motivate me to become the very best gaurdian I could be. He had a rough start but I would leave the rest of his live accident free. \n\nOr so I thought. You see, after noticing how Richard didn't see me, I notified the higher ups. It was a unique case after all. But as you might expect in a company with more than 7 billion employees the bureaucracy is insane. So about 16 years later there was finally a response. And not just any, Gabriel himself came over to inspect. After the initial courtesies whe went about to the examination. When all of a sudden Richard looks straight at us. \n\nWe both stopped what we were doing immidiatly. Richards face, now visibly annoyed. He says I didn't mind having you around as everyone has one. But if the two of you are going to be so in my face you might as well say hello first.\n\nNow very confused we ask Richard: \"You can see us?\"\n\n\"Yeah\" He says. Bright red skin, black eyes, horns and a tail. You all look the same! Although the new guy does have wings.....", "Tommy isn't a smart man, he isn't reckless, confident, outgoing or anything that would make him stand out in someone's mind. 34 years of life and he is remarkably...unremarkable. \n\nIn a way I'm thankful and do not have to deal with any stunts that could put us in any danger. The most challenging time was the death of his sister, a mugging gone wrong. Her Guardian could not convince her to not fight. I managed to influence Tommy to run, but not before he saw her fall. Since then, a gentle shove here or there to push him to avoid a potentially nasty trip or bump, and that's about it.\n\nIf anything, I do enjoy my time with him. He doesn't speak much with others or do much except walk and sit at home. It's a chance to see the small world around us, and appreciate all the little things. I think that's why Tommy is the way he is. He just enjoys his place in life.\n\n\"Hello?\" He murmurs. We are in his apartment, watching TV. No one is here. I would have sensed it. He switches off the television and stares at the blank screen. \"You're here with me.\"\n\nI stand up and place my face directly in front of his. His pupils do not focus on anything.\n\n\"Please, I just want to see you.\" Even if I wanted to show myself I could not. I am a part of him, just as he is of me. He stands up and paces the room, looking for words. He stops, staring right through me. \"You still haven't figured out I can see you?\"\n\nI stand to one side, and his eyes drift away. \"You've been with me all this time, protecting me, and...I just wanted to say thank you.\"\n\nTears slowly form and crawl from his eyes. I make sure the ground is soft as he drops to his knees. If I had the ability to speak I would have comforted him.\n\n\"I don't know what I would do without you. I see the way you brush my elbow from hitting the table, or your push to stop me from putting metal in the microwave like when we were kids. I...just thank you...\" Ah so he can't see me directly. Would it be so bad if he could? If he could talk to me face to face?\n\n\"I just wish I could see your face again.\" What? Again? \"What is it like, in your world? I would like to know.\"\n\nMy world is your world, Tommy. That's all it is.\n\n\"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, sis.\" He stands up and walks to the kitchen. \"I miss you so much.\"\n\nMy senses are flaring, Tommy is in danger. He picks up a knife. I push myself on him, my will fighting against his to put it down. \"I want to see you again, more than anything else in the world.\"\n\nHis will is too strong. This is not like convincing his mind to move a foot slightly to the left. He has made up his mind, but I do not give up.\n\nHe takes two bags of ice from the freezer and walks to the bathroom. Cuts them open with the knife and puts it all in the bathtub. He strips, taking his phone out of his trousers, and climbs in. I feel the shock of the cold as he enters. He dials, says his address and hangs up, all the while I am at war with his will.\n\n\"I am scared. So scared, sis. But...but I think when I see you again, it will be alright.\" No, Tommy! He raises his knife to his wrists. At that point I knew I had failed. I protected him from all the minor injuries in life. But I never thought to guard him from the harshness in life, to help push him through danger to find happiness, instead of away from it all. My Tommy may not have been smart, handsome, devilishly charming, but he was the most special man in the whole world to me." ]	2
	[WP] Three brothers travel to Pakistan, taking upon themselves the mission to kill bin Laden. The only military training and knowledge they have are from Hollywood movies and video games.	[ "“Crikey, it’s warm out here”. Stepping out of cool, air-conditioned Benazir Bhutto international airport, Rod fanned his face and pulled his light camo rucksack off his back. “Equipping day vision goggles” His brothers, Stan and Dave, laughed, as he pulled a pair of aviator sunglasses out his bag, which he leans up against a security bollard on the outside concourse, the other two, in their identical desert camo trousers and navy polo shirts, follow him to form a huddle around. “As we discussed before, then. Stan- Intelligence. Find out where the bad guys are” Stan, with dark, hair, a spotty chin and matching aviators, pulls out a map of central Islamabad. “Dave- Weaponry. We can’t get shooting the big dog in the face without some guns” Dave, the smallest of the three, with a few whispy facial hairs, nods and taps on a small tablet he’s taped to his forearm. “Right on it, boss” “And, as we know, I’m on logistics. We have booked in the Holiday inn, as the Smith family, and…” He pulls out a Hertz leaflet-“I’m gonna get us some wheels. Ooo-Rah?”\n\n---Three days later---\n\nThe rental Toyota bounced across the desert tracks at an alarming speed, engine revving. It had been a shame they couldn’t get a 4x4, Rod, thought, but a Toyota was a Toyota, right? Even if it was just a small saloon. Right now, the bigger problem was the transmission. Rod had never driven a manual before. It seemed simple, though. Once moving, it was barely an issue- pedal on the right to go faster, and the damn towelheads knew how to get out the way. The buzzing engine was annoying, though. Rod missed the family V8 truck, with it’s cushioned seats. And top speed past 40km/hr, at which point the saloon they’d hired simply stopped accelerating, it’s rev counter pinned firmly in the red.\n\n“Look” Stan pointed out the side window of the saloon, “8 O clock, Insurgents” a small group of people were making their way through the dusty desert . a series of Clicks followed as all three brothers loaded and cocked their AK-47’s. they had been lucky Pakistan gun licences were so easy forge, it hadn’t taken more than a day to get armed. Still close to 40km/hr, Rod drove closer again, and yanked on the handbrake. The Toyota spun around in front of the small group, “ایک اور نہیں” the leader, a bearded man wearing a turban, muttered. As the Toyota spluttered then stalled, Dave jumped out the back door, waving his AK. “International freedom enforcement, show us your papers”. A couple of small children popped their heads out the wagon pulled by a sad looking donkey. The rest of the group look uneasily at each other, before pushing a younger man forward. “we speak little English” he said “urdu?” Dave cracked, his voice almost breaking “Speak like a damn American” and fired his AK in the air, above the small group. The younger man in the front of the group looked shocked. “Yes. We…”he struggled to find the right word “traders”. He walked back to the wagon, and picked up a few sheets of paper. “Here” as he walked back toward the stalled Toyota, a sharp ‘Crack’ echoed across the desert dunes, and Dave fell over.\n\n \n\nRod and Stan crouched behind the rental Toyota, flakes of white paint flaking off the bullet holes. The group of traders had carried on, leaving the pair alone- No first aid drop was going to bring back Dave, the hole in his head from the sniper bullet still oozing gently. “Eagle 1?” Rod nodded. “flank them- I’ll cover you, and spot them, you head around those rock formations” Stan pointed with his gun to some rocks, around 50 metres away. “You sure?” Rod looked uneasy. “Backup’s hours away” the small radio they’d used to call for help laid beside them- the local police seemed unwilling to help, even more so when their location was clear. “Ooh-Rah?” “Ooh-rah” Tod replied, setting up in a sprinters pose. “On my mark?” they silently nodded. “Mark”. Rod ran out from behind the car, at the fastest he could manage. The sand danced behind him as he kicked it up, from his new army surplus boots. Then the sand danced around him, with a thousand impacts and secondary impacts, lead raining down. Rod laid still.\n\nStan took one quick look around, his brothers in arms laying around him. He picked up the mirror from the car, and in the distance saw a trio of pickup trucks, trailing a dustcloud behind them each. From above them, a loudspeaker shouted “میں نے تمہاری ماں کیا” Stan took one look, and wearily raised the assault rifle to his shoulder. “Ooh-Rah” he said, sadly and quietly, to no one in particular\n\n\nThe tone changes significantly if you translate the Urdu ;) " ]	1
	[WP]: You've been ageing backwards. It's becoming an inconvenience.	[ "\nMadeline Popper came home from work at 4:15 P.M. sharp every day, which meant I had exactly one hour to write my note that would break up our six year relationship for good. As an elementary school teacher, she made far less than I did, so I didn’t hesitate much in deciding to leave the furniture, my TV, and my books. Besides, they wouldn’t fit in my car, anyway. My checking account would have to sustain me for now. Soon, I’d be in Fort Worth, Texas. A corner of the country I’d never been to, and far, far away from the world of Bridgewater, New Jersey. \n\nBut first, this. I took a pen out of Maddie’s desk, and a sheet of paper from her printer. I knew she would see it; she always unwound from a school day with a glass of Coke and a show in front of her computer. I always told her to use my TV, but she preferred the computer. \n\nDear Maddie, I wrote, and then set the pen down. Perhaps it was kindest to leave without saying anything. Ghosting, as they called it now. Since I had already resolved not to tell her the truth, nothing I wrote in the letter could be a kindness. What could I say? That I didn’t love her? That her innocuous habits of leaving clothes around and burning the pasta were enough to make me leave her? \n\nI knew I couldn’t handle an in-person break up. The chances were too great that I’d cry and spill everything. This was the only way. Which would be more scarring, though? Believing that she’d dated a scumbag who she’d mistaken for a great guy? Or believing that a great guy had chosen to leave for nothing? Which was the truth, anyway?\n\nI had to leave because people were noticing my pesky little habit of getting younger instead of older. You know, the average person actually changes very little in one year. As it happened, Maddie hadn’t noticed at all. It was actually her parents and my coworkers with the raised eyebrows, the pointed questions about my diet, my appearance, my exercise routine. I’d been in New Jersey for eight years, and for Maddie with six. And now it was time to go. \n\nI felt glued to the chair. I had to write the letter and leave, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my life when I no longer had Maddie and work and Bridgewater. What next? Maddie would be my third relationship, the third I’d left behind when my appearance started to change too much and the questions became too persistent. It would probably be my last, as my mind would start to unravel. I’d lose my long term planning. The last decade had been the best in my life, but I could already feel myself becoming more angry, more impulsive. I didn’t have the ability to reason things out as patiently as I could before. I’d spend the last years of my life losing the ability to speak, to pee in a toilet, to feed myself. \n\nI couldn’t expose Maddie to that. I couldn’t. How many times had I heard about her complaining about the little brats that she spent all day looking after? Wiping their drool, tying their shoes, teaching them the alphabet. No. She deserved better. \n\nI broke myself out of the trance, picked up the pen, and resolved not to put it down until I was done. Dear Maddie, I had written. To this, I added: I am so, so, sorry, but I have to leave you. Forever. I have problems in my life with which I cannot burden you. It was wrong of me to enter a relationship with you when I knew I would one day have no choice but to do this. Please, be angry at me, but not yourself. I wish we could be together forever, but for reasons I cannot explain, I must go. Please do not try to find me or contact me. I hesitated. No, that was enough. She could never know more. Love, Gabriel. Enough. Enough. \n\nI placed the letter on the desk. Then, I went to mine and picked up the new documents that I’d had made a year ago. Now, I was Felix Porter, 20 years old, brown eyes, brown hair. And I walked to the driveway, started the car, and drove away to begin my next and last life. \n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] When your best friend sacrifices himself to save you, you decide to resurrect them as an undead so you can continue your adventures together.	[ "Hehe 2nd story here we go xD\n\n\$Sorry in advance if you don't like it.\$\n\n\$Also the grammar errors that you, the reader, might find here, sorry about that too\$\n\nDay 173\n\n\"RIICCKKKYYY NOOOO!!!!\" I shouted as my friend Ricky blocked an arrow headed for me. With my anger, I killed the archer who shot the arrow with my own hands \$I stabbed him, that's it\$.\n\nAs I returned to Ricky, I found him lying on the ground, slowly bleeding to death... \n\n\"Ricky, why did you do that?!\" I said to him angrily, smashing his boy unknowingly\n\n\"Z\\-Zynith, m\\-my body\" \n\n\"Oh god! Sorry! I didn't know! Does it hurt?\"\n\n\"Wh\\-what do you think?\"\n\n\"I'll find a doctor! Right now!\"\n\n\"Y\\-you can't... the nearest town... is 5 kilometers...\"\n\n\"F\\-Freak... Wh\\-what do I do?! Help me out Ricky!\"\"H\\-hey, y\\-you're the\\- w\\-wait... Zynith\"\n\n\"What is it?! Tell me!\"\n\n\"Re\\-\" That was all he said, as I see another arrow on deep on his head. I turned around, finding the one who shot it. I find out it was one of my own undead archers \$The others were pointing at him\$. Effing idiot....\n\nI quickly made the archer to just a pile of skeletons again, idiot.\n\n\"Re, Re...\" My mind blanked out, ugghhh, its suddenly became a riddle!!! Red, Redo, ugghhh.... then I just stopped, did he meant revive? Oh! Revive! Silly me. I forgot i'm a necromancer, can I do it though? Whatever...\n\nAs I bring out my spellbook, I flipped open the reanimation spell and started to say the words. Seconds later...\n\n\"Rickkyy!!!!\"\n\n\"Heyy!! You did it!! I was going to say revive but I died\" \n\n\"Haha, one of my archers did it, I turned him back to bones\"\n\n\"Oh, glad you figured out that I was going to say revive though\"\n\n\"Hehe, I was surprised, for the first time your brain started working\"\n\n\"Hey! I'm not a complete idiot!\"\n\n\"Haha, sorry, can you still lift your stuff?\"\n\n\"I can't... everything suddenly became so heavy. I can only lift my shield and sword, why still a skeleton? Can't you give me a body?\"\n\n\"Sorry, still have some levels to get reanimation to level 3, get used to it then\"\n\n\"Whatever, lets go.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" So, we continued to head to the city of ammoria. Sheesh, I just noticed, i got to get used to skeleton Ricky..." ]	1
	[WP] The heads of seven nations were assassinated this week. A friend just texted you an hour-old video with over 500 million views. In horror, you watch footage of each assassination enacted by the same person. You. As the video ends, you hear sirens and squealing tires outside your house.	[ "As I swiped away the tears denoting the end of this year's The Office binge, I glanced over at the kitchen. My phone had constantly been buzzing almost as loud as the baby crying next door; clearly some Nigerian Prince was trying to get more than just my SSN. Or, I really shouldn't think like this, Rico was having another anxiety attack. He hadn't popped out of his room for a couple of hours, which was odd given The Office was our show. But I could hear Rico's bark in the back of my head: \"You're so much more important than you think. Why are we wasting our time on useless shit like this?\" Shittiest boyfriend ever.\n\nWhatever. I won't check on him.\n\nInstead, my PS4 (which is now just a glorified Netflix machine because of work) whirred to sleep and I surfed channels before landing on CONews. This pretty boy read off his teleprompter at an alarming rate, his expression dripping with dread with a slight tinge of satisfaction. I didn't bother listening, as the headline spoke millions: \"Serial Killer \"REGICIDE\" Caught On Video.\" That was bad for me. Very bad. \n\n\"Rico. Christ. They're going to get us,\" I screamed, wailing on his door. He mumbled in response. After a few minutes of pounding and asking nicely, I decided to breach the door as I was trained. Construction and important people didn't skimp back then. East Side San Jose did. My foot rocketed through the door, creating a hole big enough to yell through.\n\n\"Rico, we have to start moving. Now. Before they come for us,\" I pleaded. \n\n\"Why even bother? We're fucked. We deserve it, really.\"\n\n\"Rico, what the hell are you talking about? We don't deserve anything,\" I forced out as I jammed my fist through the hole in the door. Reaching to my left, the knob twisted and twirled and I stepped foot into Rico's sanctuary for the first time.\n\nA cork board, as per spy movies, hung brightly near the window. Each step of REGICIDE's plans, every movement we knew so far, everything. How could we know this, though? I voiced my concerns.\n\nInstead of responding, Rico broke down crying. Now was not a time for feelings, nor any time in the last few weeks. Now was a time for action. I always knew he'd be our downfall. I pushed him to his bed, and opened up his Chrome tabs.\n\nAnd there it was. The YouTube account, REGICIDE, which leaked the unfinished video to the world.\n\n\"I couldn't fucking finish the job. I'm so sorry. But we deserve this.\"\n\nThey'd be knocking any time now. It'd been up for an hour. I had to think fast. Everyone in the world knew my face, knew Rico's face, and knew that we lived in a Glendale Complex. This would be easier alone.\n\n\"Yeah, you deserve it.\" As he cried on the bed, I took a 9mm from the bookshelf. He bawled. I shot both of his legs. The cries went from emotional to physical. \n\nThe whole point of REGICIDE was to show how weak the world is. And I'm no hypocrite. I waltzed down the corridor to the next door over. Knocked. Shot Mrs. Garnet. Cradled Caleb in my arms. Forced a fifth of Smirnoff down his throat. Played a little dress up.\n\nI panicked from the fifth floor all the way down the lobby.\n\n\"Help! Call 911! My baby is dying!\"", "The YouTube video ended and started to suggest the next one in line \\- FailArmy's Fails of the Week \\- but I had already yanked the power cord from the wall. Sirens wailed in the distance, slowly growing louder. It was horrifying. Every single one of them, genuine footage of me killing those corrupt and despicable figureheads. I lit the fuse on the small thermite tube and placed it inside the computer tower.\n\nTerrifying, really, that I'd become so complacent in my proficiency I'd let someone get shots of my face while doing my job. C'est la vie, though, and this too shall pass. I walked to the large bookshelf, recessed in the living room wall, and gave the frame a solid push. It slid back, just enough for me to slide behind, and as I pushed it back into place the sirens peaked over screeching tires. The shouts were quickly muffled by the hidden door sealing. \n\nI would find whoever this was. Hendrix hadn't sent me that video to spook me; that message meant he was already tracking down the OP before I even clicked play. I'd have to give it some time, though, as Hendrix was smart enough to not contact me until the initial manhunt had cooled a bit.\n\nI made my way down the terribly narrow staircase to the small bunker. This had been an incredibly expensive addition; not just because of the technology and life support features, but because it had been done without anyone outside the house knowing about it. Six years of careful excavation, bribing local venues to play rock concerts extra loud and repaving the neighborhood street four times to cover the noise, and using countless shell corporations to purchase the equipment that now sat before me. \n\nThe dull light of idle monitors, blinking network/server hubs, and geothermal\\-powered lamps gave me enough to make my way to the main station. The tower fired up in just a few seconds, and the 110\\-inch projector screen lit up the far wall. Anyone tracing this internet connection would be bounced through half the countries on Earth and twice as many firewalls before making it through. I could picture the NSA agent though, quoting the great Lloyd Christmas: \"So you're saying there's a chance?\"\n\nEven so, it was worth it. I already had a couple hunches on who it was that had tracked me. Only a few people even knew where I'd be on each of those days, so the list was short to begin with. I went through the usual dark\\-web jumps to get to my account, and pulled up my inbox. Nothing new, but I wasn't there for that notification high. I opened up the archived messages and took note of the last three \\- well, only three \\- people I'd communicated with.\n\nMy employer. My handler. And...fuck. \n\nWick." ]	2
	[WP] You've been dating a girl for a while now, the day you propose marriage to her she confesses, she's the last of a race of shapeshifters, after she tells you this, she gives you the choice to become a member of her kind, and wield the awesome power that comes with it.	[ "“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” \n \nShe looks back at me with those bright, round eyes that I’ve grown to love. She does not say anything, but continues to stare at me. I can feel my throat start to go dry; what is she thinking? She breaks her gaze and looks at the ring box I’m still holding out in front of me. \n \n“So, this is the ring you went with?” she asks me. \nI’m suddenly nervous. “Is there something wrong with it?” \nShe looks back at me and starts to laugh. “We’ve talked about this before, didn’t we? I told you that I didn’t want a ring.” \nI grin sheepishly. “Oops.” \n \nShe takes the ring box from my hand, shuts it, and sets it on our coffee table. She then takes my hands into hers. \n \n“Is something wrong?” I ask. \n“Before I give you my answer, there’s something I want to tell you.” \n“Look, if you don’t like the ring, I can always return it.” \nShe laughs again. “It’s not the ring. I told you I did not want a ring because there’s something else even more valuable that you can give me.” \n“What’s that?” \nHer tone shifts into a deadly serious voice. “I’m not human like you.” \n“What?” \n“I’m not human like you.” \n“What? What do you mean by that?” \n“I was born a shapeshifter.” \n“So, you’re one of those lizard people I read about on the internet.” \n“Lizard people are a myth, you know that, dear?” \n“But you’re a shapeshifter. Can you prove it?” \n“Will you freak out?” \n“I’ll try not to.” \n \nShe lets go of my hands and stands up. I blink and the next thing I know, she has turned into me. \n \n“Whoa. That’s weird.” \n \nI blink again and she’s back to normal. Well, normal as in what I’ve been seeing her as for the past three years. \n \n“Is this a little too much to take in at once?” she asks me. Her concern for me is visible on her face. \n“Yeah, it’s just a surprise to me.” \n“Take your time.” \n“No, keep going. You sound like you have more to say.” \n“Okay. So, I’m actually the last of my kind.” \n“So, the last of the bloodline? So, you’re going to ask me to give you a lot of babies so you can keep the bloodline going?” \nShe cracks a half-smile, “We wouldn’t be able to afford to raise all those children. But, no, I wish that were the case. In order for me to continue my bloodline, I need to mate with another shapeshifter. If I mate with a human, my children will be human.” \n“But, I’m a human. I can’t help you.” \n“You can, if you become a shapeshifter like me. I have a method to turn you into one of us. And that is what I am asking of you.” \n \nI fall silent. She wants me to become a shapeshifter like her. What would the process be? Would I change physically? Well of course, I’d be a shapeshifter. But, would my mental state be intact? More importantly, is this what she wanted from me all along? Did she want someone who would be attached to her so that she could create children? Was I just being used all along? No. That couldn’t be. Of all the humans in the world, she chose me. I loved her. And I know she loved me. But being a shapeshifter? Is that too much? I don’t want to become different from everyone else. I still want to be human. \n \n“Can I ask you something?” \n“Sure, anything.” \n“Are you really a female?” \nShe bursts out laughing, “THAT is your concern? Come on, we’ve slept together so many times. You think I would not be naturally female?” \n“Hey, I don’t know how it works, okay?” \n“Yes, don’t worry, I’m really female. My goodness, you’re so silly.” \n“Why did you choose me? Don’t get me wrong, you are beautiful, but you could have shifted to become even more beautiful and you could’ve gotten any guy you wanted. Why did you choose me? I’m just an average guy.” \n“To be honest, I don’t know. Do you remember how we met?” \nI nod. Her notebook had fallen out of her bag when she was getting on the bus and she did not notice. I chased after the bus for five blocks before I caught up and returned her notebook to her. We started talking after that and eventually started dating. \n“There was something about your sincerity. You didn’t even see me drop the notebook. You just ran after the bus and then when you caught up, you got on, announced you found a notebook, and asked who dropped it. You didn’t chase after the bus to hit on me; you just did it because you thought it was the right thing. And right then and there, I decided that this is a person who I could trust. And one day, he might be the one that I could share my secret with.” \n“I see.” \nShe takes my hands in hers again and looks into my eyes, “I love you. That has never been a lie. First and foremost, I love you and I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you. Even if you decide not to become a shapeshifter, I am content with spending the rest of my life with you.” \n“So, that’s a yes to my proposal?” \nShe smiles enthusiastically, “Of course.” \n \nI wrap my arms around her and bring her close to me. I can feel her warmth and the rising and falling of her chest on mine. She had risked it all, telling me her secret. It’s a sign of her utmost trust in me. How lucky am I, to find someone like this? Someone who believes in me. It’s one of the rarest things in the world. \n \n“I guess it’s my turn to answer your proposal.” I tell her. \n“Sure.” \n“No matter, what happens, I love you.” \n“I’ve known that.” \nI smile at her. \n \nEven though I’m afraid of what will happen next, I give her my answer. \n", "\"So you're an atomic shapeshifter,\" said Maeron, his brow furrowed as he looked up and down at Cenn, the woman he thought he knew.\n\"Yeah, pretty much,\" she replies nonchalantly, shrugging slightly as she smirked at his reaction to her confession. Maeron stands up from his kneeling position, clearly dumbfounded,\n\"And every other atomic shifter has either committed suicide from the stress of being immortal, or has been killed by fearful humans,\" he restates, still struggling to comprehend this. His entire worldview was beginning to shatter.\n\"Well...\" Cenn purses her lips, clearly not fond of the memory, \"Yes. I'm the last one...\" She chuckles nervously, anxiously rubbing the back of her head.\n\"And you want me to touch that red rock in your hand and become the second atomic shifter,\" Maeron continues, eyes widened a bit as he looked into Cenn's eyes. He couldn't stop loving her... It was honestly impossible at this point.\n\"Yeah. I want to be able to spend more time with you, without, y'know, outliving you...\", she replies. She was blushing. How long has it been since she'd blushed, again...? \"And... you'd also be able to modify your own atomic struc-\" Maeron suddenly puts his hands on her shoulders.\n\"Cenn.\" The girl in question pauses, a look of surprise on her face.\n\"Y-yes, Maeron?\", she stammers. She was starting to second-guess herself. What if Maeron rejected her? What if he dismissed her like everyone else? What if-\n\"Do you know... how *fucking* cool that would be?!\", Maeron exclaims, giddy with the thought of being able to spend more than just a lifetime with Cenn, and the thought of being able to transform into anything he wanted! A dragon, a dinosaur! A gigantic robot!!! He jumps up and down as Cenn smiles, giggling at this.\n\"Ahehe... So I take that as a yes?\", she says, a genuine smile appearing on her face. Not the fake smile she wore for mortals, no, an actual smile of happiness. Maeron stops jumping, a huge smile still on his face as he imagined the possibilities of everything he could be, before realising that Cenn had asked him a question. He blushes lightly.\n\"Y- um... Yeah!\" He grins widely, before wrapping Cenn in a tight hug. She stays still for a second, before returning the hug with her empty hand, mimicking Maeron's huge grin.\n\"Then get ready, 'cause this will feel pretty weird.\" She kisses him full on the lips, embracing every moment that he would be human, as his mortal form was about to be converted. She moves her other hand onto her now-fiance's back, reaching under his shirt and touching the stone to his body.\n\nAnd Maeron felt the truest form of love." ]	2
	[WP] it's 2367, scientists have been found something on Pluto's moon but aren't releasing the info to the governments, but one day out of nowhere Canada goes silent, no flights, no contact and soldiers are posted along the border. And no one knows why.	[ "I'm Lieutenant Mike Connors, soldier in the United Colonies Marine Corps. I'm stationed near Malta, a small city in ruins. Malta is in the Northwestern United States, near the border to Canada.\n\nThree years ago, 2367, war was declared on Earth by the aliens. We on the field call 'em Beavers.\n\nThe Beavers are alien creatures that have supposedly existed long before the time of man, but when humanity came around, we kicked their asses pretty good, and have since taken over most of the planet. The thing about the Beavers, though, is that they are natural shapeshifters and chameleons. Allowing them to live right under man's nose for thousands of years without us noticing. Either by making themselves look like one of us, or appearing invisible. \n\nOver the past few millenniums, the Beavers have been congregating and growing their forces, all in secret, completely unknown to humanity. \n\nTo us, they were known as the Canadians.\n\nThe Canadians, or Beavers-in-Disguise-as-Normal-Humans, come from Pluto, a dwarf planet in our solar system that is supposed to be real cold. You know where else is cold? You guessed it, Canada.\n\nMy theory is they picked Canada to live because 1. It's nice and cool, and 2. because they get some internet connection and know what is going on in humanity's world. You wouldn't expect Canada to be the place that tries to take over the world, I'd have guessed Russia or China or something, but there you go.\n\nSo by the looks of it, the Beavers are looking to take over America, then slowly move onto the rest of the world. And they have two fronts, Pluto, and Canada. Two days after our communication with the entirety of Canada was cut off, their fleet arrived. They destroyed our satellites, and now they own the sky, we can't fly any aircraft, because they'll shoot it down, and they've also taken to bombing our ships, meaning we can't get across the sea anymore. On top of it all, the bastards have completely destroyed the internet, I'm not entirely sure how it worked in the first place, but satellites had something to do with it, and undersea cables. Unfortunately, they were apparently somehow able to locate these cables and destroy them. We have virtually no communication with any of the other countries.\n\nThe Beavers have been attacking us on and off for the past few years, somehow we have survived this long, but it's looking grim. Times are tough, every day we lose territory to them, even if it's just a few feet, or inches. They've also starting promising safety to anyone that allies with them, we don't know what happens to anyone that crosses the border, but if they aren't shot by us, they make it there safely. We've lost a lot of people.\n\nI don't think humanity has long left. If they disable our anti-aircraft somehow, or sever the last of our communication, we truly are screwed.\nHere in Montana, we have a power station deep underground, which supplies enough energy to keep our weapons up and running, our army moving, and communication alive. The place is guarded heavier then perhaps the pentagon was, but if one of those bastards got to the core of the place, it's supposed to be incredibly vulnerable. One bomb or grenade well placed could bring down the whole damn state. All it would take is a single disguised or invisible Beaver to infiltrate it.\n\nLike myself.\n\nWe humans are intelligent, but as I have learned, and as we know, man is incredibly flawed, and they just couldn't keep the core's location a secret for too long. Of course, there are defenses in place to stop Beavers such as myself from getting in, special cameras that can detect body heat to find invisibles, and scanners that can identify an intruder. It took a few years, and hard-earned trust, but I have somehow managed to get in here. It took patience and hard work, but the time has come.\n\nMontana is ours, and soon, all of Earth." ]	1
	[WP] Future seers tend to be very successful, but every one of them turned to the dark side eventually and became history's worst mass murderers, tyrants and dictators. One day, you saw into the future, thousands of years into the future. You decide to use this knowledge for good.	[ "I woke in my bed, turned on the lamp, then reached for the pen and notepad I kept on the nightstand to write my dreams. Writing out what I could remember helped me put the images into a cohesive prediction that I could work with. This one was easy to remember, but deep down inside I knew I could change it. \n\n\"End of humanity,\" I spoke aloud as a habit while I jotted it down. \"5037\" I closed my eyes and focused to pull more information from my dream memory. It wasn't alien invaders, nuclear war, or viral pandemic. My eyes shot open. \"Suicide?\" I asked myself in disbelief, then added it to my notes. \"Mass Suicide.\" I closed my eyes again, but the memories remained. Somehow every human was convinced to kill themselves in 5037. I wasn't immortal, and I'd be long dead by then. But I had to stop it. I glanced at the clock. Red block numbers said 6:30 a.m. so I reached for my phone. \n\nAn hour later I answered the door to see my two best friends, Ryan and Jesse. I had more friends that knew about my visions, but they were the only ones I felt comfortable calling so early on a Saturday morning. Ryan handed me a bag of breakfast as he walked in carrying two others. Jesse handed me a cup of coffee from a tray holding three.\n\n\"What's the emergency vision?\" Jesse asked as he stepped in. \n\n\"I saw farther than ever, the year 5037,\" I said as we made ourselves comfortable on my red couch. Ryan pulled the coffee table closer to hold our food. \n\n\"Whoa, that's awesome. Did you see any cool tech we could start inventing?\" Jesse asked. Normally I would have chuckled, but I just shook my head. \n\n\"I saw the death of humanity.\" \n\n\"Oh. That's not awesome.\" Jesse said, then took a bite of his breakfast sandwich. \n\n\"How'd it happen? How can we fix it?\" Ryan asked, then took his own bite.\n\n\"I don't know how to fix it, that's why you guys are here. As for how it happened... man. It was pretty horrible. Saying 'mass suicide' doesn't seem like a strong enough description considering it was every single human, but yeah. That's what happened, everyone killed themselves.\" I finally bit into my own breakfast while their brains worked on the problem. \n\n\"What about the kids? Did the parents...\" Jesse let the question hang, but I shook my head.\n\n\"Ebrywon,\" I said with a mouth full of egg, sausage, and biscuit. I held my finger up, then swallowed. \"Everyone did it themselves, even the kids. I don't know how we can even affect that far in the future, but we gotta try.\" \n\n\"You gotta come out,\" Ryan said. \"Prove you're a Seer, then maybe people will listen. If we get enough people to listen to you now, maybe we can pass the knowledge down the generations.\" \n\n\"He can't come out, you know how Seers get treated.\" Jesse brought up the negative stigma around Seers. They're rare, but I knew I wasn't the first by a long shot. The only problem is all of them ended up corrupt somehow, causing an insane amount of deaths. I appreciated Jesse looking out for me, but deep down I knew Ryan was right. A part of me felt I knew that when I called them and I just wanted some moral support. \n\n\"No, Ryan's right. They might hate me, but they'll believe me. Can you guys help me get some videos online over the next few weeks? I don't know how many predictions I'll have to toss out before people believe me, but I know it'll be more than one.\"\n\n\"Yeah man, of course,\" Ryan said.\n\n\"If you're sure you want to go that route, we'll help,\" Jesse added. Once the decision was made I felt a weight off my shoulders. We spent the morning chatting about how to address Humanity's end, and the guys helped me doctor it up a bit. I decided some embellishment wouldn't hurt, since it was for the most important cause. Plus if everything went according to plan it wouldn't happen anyway. They left in the early afternoon. It gave me a chance to sit down and plan my night.\n\nI couldn't necessarily call the visions at will, however I'd gotten pretty good at coaxing them out fairly regularly if I really wanted to. I had to have a vision that night and it needed to be something happening soon. I spent a quiet evening alone meditating on and off, then went to bed. The next morning Ryan and Jesse showed up with breakfast again, ready to record. \n\n\"Get anything useful?\" Ryan asked as he set up a tripod. I nodded and held up my notepad.\n\n\"Yeah, I lucked out and got something for tomorrow. So we gotta get this uploaded early.\" I placed my bag of breakfast on the kitchen counter and left it untouched. The other two guys followed my lead and we got down to business. Ten minutes later we were ready to film.\n\n\"Alright, we're filming. Go for it.\" Ryan nodded at me. Jesse headed to the kitchen for his breakfast. I started the speech I'd been practicing in my head since the day before, minus the details of the prediction.\n\n\"Hi! You don't know me yet, but you will. My name is Leo Goodson and I'm a Seer. I've kept this fact hidden for a while now, but two nights ago I had a vision so important..\" I stretched my arms out wide. \"Well, here I am. Before I can talk about what I Saw, I need to make sure everyone believes I'm a Seer. To that end I'll start posting predictions online, until you guys are ready to hear the big one. Here's your first prediction. Tomorrow, Monday the 21st, game 7 is going to be rained out.\" I waved at the camera. \"That's it for now, stay tuned. More predictions to come.\" \n\n\"Looks good,\" Ryan said after he stopped recording. \"I'll have it uploading in a bit.\" He pulled his laptop out of his backpack while I headed towards my breakfast. He joined Jesse and me in the kitchen once the video was uploading. \n\nSix months later I sat in a large conference room with Ryan, Jesse, and the leaders of the world. I made predictions as often as I could, but unfortunately some of them took weeks to resolve. But now I had the attention I needed. I explained my vision for the end of humanity, but it took another two years of accurate predictions before they believed me. It took the world governments an extra two years to believe me, but I released my big prediction to the public after that initial meeting. All the predictions I made to prove myself to the government brought me more and more subscribers. I repeated my vision to my followers as often as I could. I needed to remind them how horrible it would be. I needed my message to echo across the generations. \n\n\\\\\\\n\n5037: \n\n\"Morning!\" Baxter walked into the bright kitchen to join his family at the breakfast table. \"Happy Lion's Day!\" His family greeted him in kind, his wife and two sons smiling like Christmas morning. \n\n\"Do we gotta wait for everyone else?\" His son Leo, named after the prophet, asked. Baxter nodded at his youngest. \n\n\"Well, I suppose you don't have to.\" Leo eagerly reached for his loaded gun resting at the center of the table with three others. \"But, the Goodson did intend for everyone to do it together.\" \n\n\\\\\\\n\nThank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html)." ]	1
	[WP] As a young god in school you are tasked with creating a world with free will that doesn't destroy itself. You are the only one that succeeds.	[ "\"Let there be light!\" I said.\n\nAnd there was light. Then I created a small blue planet with oceans and land orbiting that light. After that I created a big gas planet to take in all the left over stuff i didn't need. They said i was over engineering it. I swirled the orbits around my fingers, what would go here? And in there? I decided that the fifth planet was too much and crushed it to bits. Yes, the gas planets shall lure all the asteroids and leave the one blue blip alone.\n\nThen i started life itself. Just a little bit, to see how far it could go. And boy did it go. For 40 million nights, and days it did! And i saw!\n\nMy little children had evolved. Evolved to look just like me!\n\nSo u breathed to them, breathed them the Soul!\n\nGo forth my children and fill this planet i have given you!\n\nI was proud.\n\nI watched them play, to dance and to fight. All by my will.\n\nTo pillage, to rape, to burn! All by my will.\n\nAnd then i grew tired. I would not have any satisfaction on their petty wars. Their lust for power that i made them to feel.\n\nI said \"Do what thou wilt!\"", "\"The assignment was difficult, I admit,\" said Hysterna, her scales whispering against each other as she coiled in front of the class. \"But still, the level of excrement in your work is so high that, metaphorically speaking, your worlds are brown.\" She hissed disapprovingly, and the class flinched.\n\n\"What did I tell you the first day? That any world based on quantum mechanics would surely fail to grant free will to its participants? I'm looking at you Gregorit, you half\\-brained drooling fool.\" Gregorit hid his head in his hand\\-\\-although the god of nonduality did only have a half brain, and due to manifesting as half a person cut down the middle, constantly drooled out the side of his head, the way Hysterna said it made his half\\-stomach lurch.\n\nStill, he spoke up, mumbling through his half\\-lips, \"But we learned later that quantum uncertainty in neuronal activity could spark free will.\"\n\n\"You're confusing randomness with free will, Gregorit. Having the little mudlings scurry about because some number generator in their head told them to is not true autonomy. And don't get me started on the ramifications of introducing a multi\\-verse into your world. If there's a version of your creations for each possible choice they could make, then that choice isn't very meaningful, now is it?\"\n\nGregorit swallowed back his retort; he had been about to bring that up.\n\n\"And you classicists are even worse! At least Gregorit's freaks could do something unpredictable. Yes, Murach and Umber, I'm looking at you. You built beautiful wind\\-up clocks that ticked down into nothingness when you were supposed to be making something more. Next time, just piss in some supernovae and hand that in. At least it would be more original.\" Murach, being an ephemeral mist that floated everywhere in the classroom, didn't show much of a reaction, but Umber did actually begin to leak molten lava from her/his/its eyes.\n\n\"No fair! No fair!\" Umber shouted. \"What else is there? You're saying all the options are useless. What were we supposed to do, make a world out of black and yellow bile?\"\n\n\"It'd be better than adopting only the most common, de\\-bunked crock of shit theory of world construction ever used,\" Hysterna hissed in reply. \"Look at Feldmann! She proved that semi\\-original work is possible.\" Feldmann, the god of ginzels, blushed deeply under her construction hat. \"True, just saying that every fundamental particle is itself possessed of free will, and although their actions in aggregate are predictable, the individual particle is not, has simply shifted the question up a level. And true, there's no explanatory power in it, no theory developed that you can craft the rest of the fine check and balances needed to make a world hum along.\" Feldmann's blush was decidedly gone. \"But at least it was not ON THE FIRST PAGE OF THE TEXTBOOK!\" Hysterna roared.\n\nThe classroom went deathly silent in the wake of their teacher's roar, and the only sound filling the suddenly empty soundscape was the shake of Hysterna's rattle. Eventually it slowed, and then stopped as the god's teacher took several deep breaths. \"But, these failings, although common, are not unexpected. I perhaps was harsher than was warranted, as there has been some excellent work in the class.\" Heads perked up, surprised. \"Darrell has come up with something you should all pay attention to.\" Hysterna beckoned a small, thin god from the back of the classroom. He stood awkwardly at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back. \n\n\"Go on dear,\" said Hysterna. \"Just tell them what you told me the other day.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said with a nasal tone in his voice, \"When you start, you can be a warlock, or sorceror, or a ranger, or a barbarian, or...\"", "It became something of a tradition, from what I’d gathered. Every year, the teacher in charge of Fundamental Philosophy would begin with a simple assignment: design a world such that there are intelligent forms which both have free will and do not succumb to entropy. It had a lot of merit to it, a sort of self-validating exercise which proved the necessity for the course, compared to the esoteric classes that did nothing but ask questions without answers and still mock you for trying to answer them.\n\nNot that I had any particular grudge with Non-Axiom Logical Reasoning.\n\nRegardless, I had been looking forward to the assignment for a while. We hear about it in your first year and everyone has their own answer immediately. Some people tried to make the simplest intelligence possible, so that it took a near eternity for all the mass to disintegrate. Others went for small populations, for much the same reason, but it was never quite enough. That was the problem with us lot: we didn’t really understand why or how things happened. The problem with knowing everything was forgetting it all. When we had always known all the answers our whole lives, finding an answer we didn’t know, well, it didn’t make sense. There was no point following the path from question to answer when we could simply step from one to the other in a single stride.\n\nBut, I had never been a normal sort. While others would happily know, I wished to learn, struggled to do so in fact. They all came up with all kinds of games and discussions to amuse themselves, and I fiddled with working out what the rules for things like binary logic were by going back-and-forth between questions and answers. It fascinated me, though, seeing the relationship between arithmetic and multiplication, or how the most complex logic formulas could be rewritten entirely using only one kind of operator, amongst a myriad of other things that took my fancy.\n\nSo, when it came time for me to design my world, I had a rather different approach than the others. Quickly enough, they had their little worlds going, with societies rising and falling into disarray, collapsing as resources dwindled and overpopulation strangled the supply chains and many other things like that.\n\nOn the other hand, mine initially stood out for being so dull. I had a world with nothing living. Of course, there were no shortage of comments about that, mostly poking fun that I’d failed the first step. I knew well enough. It took longer than most worlds lasted, but signs of life happened.\n\nThat brought about a strange silence.\n\nI had looked at all sorts of things to try and understand, and came up with this strange notion that entropy wasn’t inherent. Just as life broke down, so too could it build up—given the correct circumstances. Once life seeded itself, it had this innate desire to continue. But, starting so small, it had this remarkable ability to change. Energy I hadn’t even thought of as being consumable was consumed. All those blocks I’d included (and most of them I had included despite being unable to comprehend their use) were put to some kind of use by these simple yet clever organisms.\n\nEventually, they split and grew and split and grew, becoming not a monolith but an ocean of uniqueness; from basic things barely a molecule in size, to creatures capable of complex thoughts and primitive social interactions. I could barely contain my excitement, even if they had yet to cross the threshold to intelligent forms.\n\nIt all had such a beauty. Against entropy, they persevered. To get this far, I had definitely found something important on how we made life, something which no one else could answer.\n\nWhen they spread out from the forgiving waters, I found myself even more amazed. I had thought the land too inhospitable, but I had made it that way to guarantee sufficient energy would continuously enter the world and allow them to overcome entropy on the simplest level. Still, the flora flourished, overcoming the conditions, and soon fauna followed.\n\nBalance had been the key, I thought. In general, we didn’t like questions with undefined answers, so the idea of having a world full of equilibriums must have been beyond thought. Without these kinds of things, though, the world could only ever go in one way. The world itself had to be in a constant state of flux, so that the life would be too, and thus they could influence one another.\n\nIntelligent forms appeared, yet still changing, still splitting and mixing, not quite a monolith and not quite an ocean of uniqueness. Taking far longer than the intelligent forms others made—even the simplest ones—mine began to form societies and, while some fell, others thrived, ebbing and flowing. They fought each other, a rare thing in these assignments. Some societies lived off the oceans, others selectively growing various flora, others raising specific fauna. In time, some societies didn’t even produce their own food, bartering for it with other goods and even making some kind of universal bartering item—a small disc of a useless metal, which could be exchanged at any shop for goods.\n\nIt really amazed me. The sheer breadth of life, and I mean life in all kinds of different ways, simply amazed me. I couldn’t ever have designed such a world without spending an eternity and, in that time, this world would surely grow even more varied.\n\nI spent longer watching it than I had ever watched anything else. Though many others joined me, I didn’t pay attention to anything they said, so focused on my own creation. Eventually, it had to come to end.\n\nHowever, what an end it came to.\n\n“What are they doing?”\n\n“Is that a weapon?”\n\n“Shouldn’t it explode?”\n\nA small speck of brilliant white, propelled by an incredible burst of controllable fire. Slowly yet surely, that speck gained speed, flying not across the world, but from it. Farther from the surface, higher than the mountains, than the clouds, than the atmosphere. Only, our assignment hadn’t been to design a whole universe.\n\nThe teacher cleared their throat at that moment. “I think… we shall call it there.”\n\n“Then, I have passed?”\n\nAfter a moment’s grumbling, the teacher said, “I suppose.”\n\nI couldn’t contain my excitement, even if it meant my world had to come to an end.\n\n“What would you say set your world apart from your peers?” the teacher asked.\n\nThinking for a while, I eventually settled on an answer. “I suppose it’s that my world had no god.”" ]	3
	[WP] Browsing IMBD you stumble across a show that seems to be about your life, featuring a lead character that looks like you, and a cast of characters that look like your friends. You also notice that show is in the horror genre and that it’s in it’s final season.	[ "It started off as an evening of reflection and anxiety. To find that a show had been made about my life, it was as if someone had taken my reality and turned it violently around. I wanted to binge-watch it, yet at the same time I could not bring myself to. How could I mentally relive the events in the show, knowing I was only playing into some sort of puppetmaster's trap. Was my girlfriend in on it? My parents? My pets?\n\nThe night grew, then faded, as did my fear. Annoyance began to sprout in its place after reading the latest episode's ratings, critics panning the thing for \"Being too meta for its own good\" and \"Exemplifying how not to break the fourth wall.\" I could only assume this episode was about me finding the web page. I furrowed my brow and flicked off the wall behind me, hoping The New York Times could take that and shove it up their self-righteous behind. To rate a show based off of my life a two? That was an insult I couldn't even begin to imagine.\n\n\"Too slow to be a true horror\" they cried. \"Not enough action. Constant waits and teases do not a good show make.\" Bah. Sorry I lock my damn doors at night. One review, however, captured my attention. \"For a show in its final season, one would expect \"The Anon\" to have done something within its runtime. It has not.\" \n\nFinal season...\n\nI jumped up. These bastards want scares , I'll give em scares. I grabbed a rusty old flashlight from under my porch making sure the batteries were barely alive in order to get a full flicker effect. Next, I dressed in flannel. What cooler shirt to get ripped than a flannel one, I ask you? Finally, I grabbed the tiniest pocket knife I could find, one that would in no way be able to protect me from any Euclidian horrors I encounter. \n\nI stepped out the door towards the misty woods. Whatever awaited me there, I hoped it would bring my ratings up. Most of all, I hoped they would renew me for a new season." ]	1
	[WP] You were born with the power of extreme luck. While just trying to walk to the grocery store, you end up saving the world.	[ "Her words still bounced around in his head. Sam, today's your lucky day. I'm going to show you the time of your life. I just need you to get six things. Chocolate syrup. A block of cheese. Salami. Toothpaste. Dry dog food. And condoms, of course. He walked with a pep in his step. The grocery store held the keys to the time of his life. Though, he didn't entirely understand how dog food would fit into the scenario he had orchestrated in his mind. Then again, most of it wasn't ideal either. Besides the condoms. Those were self explanatory. And maybe the chocolate syrup could lead to some adventure.\n\nHe wiped his brow and with it, his questions. Now wasn't the time to ask silly questions. Soon he'd have the answers. Sam turned the corner. Glaswel Grocery stood proud amongst the other buildings. Its vibrant coat of green and blue gave it a sense of fun and youth the surrounding buildings lacked with their browns and greys. If Glaswel Grocery had a personality it'd be full of energy, saying, \"Atta boy, Sam. You're the damn man. Go get yourself some of that delightfully splendid poon. Go make her swoon and sing a wonderful tune. I got all the condoms you'd need to go have fun soon. So come on in. Let's get you the rubber for your thing.\"\n\nSam smiled. It took a grocery list from the right person to turn this store into his best friend. He stood before the sliding doors, and his heart quickened. This was it. He walked on through. Fifteen minutes passed as he scoured the aisles for the keys to the time of his life. One by one he crossed them off the list. Eventually, each item sat in a shopping basket, awaiting the checkout. Sam tapped his foot while the older woman ahead of him spent a large amount of time doing a large amount of nothing.\n\nThen everything changed. The sliding doors opened, and a man and woman rushed in. The man wore a horse mask. The woman, a teddy mask. Both armed with automatic rifles. Horse aimed his gun at the cashier lady. Teddy went around screaming threats, keeping people scared. Sam dropped to his knees along with everyone else. Beads of sweat crawled down his forehead. Horse then shifted his aim from the cashier to Sam. Beads of sweat turned to bullets of sweat.\n\n\"You.\" Horse motioned with his weapon. \"You're prime hostage material. C'mere. Nice and close. Cops gonna hold off on anything brings that baby face hurt.\" Sam quivered. Horse moved closer, shoving the old woman out of the way. \"Yo, asshat. When I say c'mere, I mean c'mere. Or you want a bullet in the brain?\"\n\nTeddy stopped her yelling and waltzed over. \"Babe, this asshole givin' ya trouble? Lemme smash his face in.\"\n\n\"Y'know, honey curls, it's like manners don't exist no more. And initiative. Especially initiative. Like it's been zapped from the world or somethin'. I tell ya...\"\n\nWhile the two talked, Sam conjured up a plan. He knew how to handle these criminals. It's the same thing you'd do with bears. Or an alien species. He needed a peace offering. Sam fished through his basket for something he could offer. Cheese. Who didn't like cheese? He presented it to Horse and Teddy. \"Um...guys. I...\"\n\nHorse tilted his head. \"Fuck's that? That cheese? You givin' me cheese? The hell you givin' me cheese for? You nutter. You absolute nutter. Ya know what? Screw this.\" Horse pulled off his mask. Glowing crimson eyes stared at Sam. The entire face was blood\\-red, and two ram\\-like horns spiralled from his forehead. \"I am Satan. And this world has disappointed me far too many times.\"\n\nShrieks flooded Glaswel Grocery as more and more faces turned to see Satan. Teddy then removed her own mask, revealing something much like Satan's face but with a larger chin. Satan gestured towards her. \"And this. This is Sally. My number one girl.\"\n\nSally waved. \"Hi ya'll.\" \n\nSatan bent over, hands on his knees. \"You have one chance to restore my faith in humanity, baby face. One chance. Or I send this world to mine.\"\n\nSam's ideas for a solution seemed to stop at one. Peace offering. It was all he had. Sam stood, only to take a step and land badly on his ankle. He yelped then fell. The cheese flung from his hand and headed for Satan, who immediately backhanded it before it could reach his face. The cheese rocketed through the air, right through Sally's skull, and she dropped dead. Satan stared quietly, face frozen as he processed. \"No. No, no, no. NO!\" He turned to Sam with fire raging in his hands. \"I'LL KILL YOU.\"\n\nSam crawled backwards as fast as he could. A fireball came hurtling towards him, and crashed where he was only seconds earlier. The heat slapped Sam in the face. With nothing to do but try and cling onto life, he began throwing a couple of his grocery items at the fire throwing demon. Satan caught the tube of chocolate syrup in his hand and crushed it, showering the floor in a rich brown. The slices of salami he simply flicked to the floor with a finger. Sam stood with the big bag of dry dog food to throw next. Before he had the chance, another fireball came his way. Sam lifted the bag and shielded himself from the fire. He then chucked it at the devil, his strength only managing to land it before Satan's feet. For a second, Satan focused on the bag. Sam took advantage of the distraction to grab the toothpaste, pull off the lid with his teeth, and squirt Satan in the eyes with the minty paste.\n\nSatan screeched and rubbed his eyes vehemently. He took a step forward and slipped on the chocolate syrup under his feet. He crashed into the floor, face first. Then the noises started. Sick, struggling\\-for\\-his\\-life noises. Sam looked on with bulging eyes and laboured breath. Satan peered up, revealing shreds of salami he'd spat out. But he was still choking. And for a minute, he continued to choke. Everyone watched on as Satan writhed in a pool of chocolate syrup until finally, he laid still. And then Glaswel Grocery filled with cheers. Sam stood with a large grin and his chest puffed out. He was proud. Not for the defeat of Satan, but for the condom he had in his hand, spared in the fight for Earth. It was still on. He was still getting laid." ]	1
	[WP]you wake up in a locked room with 8 strangers. a note tells you that the first one of you to fall asleep dies.	[ "Light scattered across dying cracked concrete walls, embedded in the concrete hung cold shackles. Rusted to the schackles was a filthy maroon glue that travelled it's way down to him. Cold, lingering, dead eyes which stared off into the distance.\n\n\"What's your name?\" The voice travelled, my eyes still focused on the staunch walls of the dead to the left. Each person was sat exactly the same way, their eyes focused elsewhere, long dead but forever seeing. In their hands, crisp unfolded notes. Cold sweat ran feverishly across my brow as I read the words. I'm going to die here.\n\n\"In your lap.\" The voice almost reassuring, life still existed here. \"The note\" the voice started again. As I looked down I could just make out a scribbled note. Reading aloud I said \"If at first your time flies to sleep, life at last will be 6 feet deep.\"\n\n\"Is this the end\" said a voice.\n\n\"It's hard to say\" said another.\n\n\"Rest before and heed my warning, you'll be dead before the morning\" Another voice echoed, deeper into this hell hole. Before long voices throughout the room called out all of their notes. \"Enjoy your slumber while you're here, I'll make your life just disappear.\"\n\n\"Either this maniac loves rhyming couplets or we should consider staying awake.\" A soft voice spoke out, falling back into silence. For a time everything was quiet. Faced with death, the storm was coming but for now, a eerie silent contemplation of mortality.\n\nThe rotting stench of flesh and feces was undeniable to the nose. Permeating through the room things were starting to become clear. The people to my left, unseeing, gazing into the abandon of space and time, had simply ceised to exist. They refused sleep and died, exhausted. A stark reminder of the future and a warning of what happens when you don't comply.\n\nA tear rolled across my cheek. \"I have a confession\" I said meekly. The room inhaled sharply as the words left my lips. \"I suffer with narcolepsy. The last time I saw my family I was out playing football with my son and my wife. I am sad to leave them behind. But I'll be happy to die if you will all live\".\n\n\"You've always been there for us\" The voice travelled from afar this time. My sobs deafened the peace that was death. The room quietly disappered into black as my senses dulled and sleep finally overtook me.\n\n\"Beep, beep, beep\" Sounds whirred around my forehead and as my eyes opened, the blurred world came into sharp reality. The soft linen of hospital room 32 wrapped across my legs and the life support machine plugged directly into me. With a thundering crash the door swung wide into the room. Light punctured the walls and followed by a doctor was none other than my Wife & Son.\n\n\"You came back daddy!\"\n\nAll was well." ]	1
	[WP] Everytime your ear rings it's actually you narrowly avoiding death in a parallel universe. Where is the strangest place you've died and how did it happen?	[ "I was up one night, I have a condition where if I think about it for too long, I can make my ears ring. I never really notices until then.\n\nWhen I was up that night, barely able to sleep, I could feel it. I could feel the death of myself over and over. Some were me stabbing myself with a pocket knife to stop the ringing, some were me simply holding my breath until I just, died.\n\nBut it was the ones I could see where I wasn't in bed, it was the one's where I was out that evening, or on the other side of the world where it was still day.\n\nBecause I was making my ears ring, versions of those universes were created, where I just had a sudden urge to kill myself.\n\nI could have been flying a plane, and suddenly just crashed it, or out around the town driving and crashed only a car instead.\n\nI felt death.\n\nThe saddest one was one in where I had killed myself with a child in my bed, the kid had a nightmare and wanted to be with his parents.\n\nWithout even realizing I was doing it, I caused versions of events where countless other \"me\"'s died because I wasn't able to stop the ringing.\n\nI was only able to stop it when I was able to think about something else. Something finally came along which stopped it.\n\nIf I was born with this condition, how many other universes existed where this was the case as well?" ]	1
	[WP] Prisoners are allowed to bet years on their sentences if they win they give time away if they lose they take the time from another prisoner. For the last 30 years you have been losing bets to help people get out. Now you have to win yourself out.	[ "30 years. 30 long, hard years. Now was my chance for freedom and I was damn well not going to let it pass me by. \n\nI shouldn't even be here in the first place. It all started in my late teen years. Having gotten a bit rowdy one night I was involved in an altercation outside a pub, nothing much. As I'm sure you can guess, the police turned up and threw me into a cell. Whilst I was sat there, swaying from the effects of the beer (or was it from when the other guy hit me? Or both?), another guy who was being held for petty theft sidled up to me. He offered me the chance to get out immediately and he'd take the rap and my jail time if I called a coin flip correctly. Obviously, I leapt at the chance! \n\nHe reached into his pocket and drew out an old penny. He slowly set himself up and tossed it in the air with the knack of an old hand. The coin turned one, twice, three times and travelled above smoothly over head height (I later learnt that this was the minimum stipulation for a bet). The coin tumbled to the ground and landed heads up. My loss. The thief chuckled to himself, pocketed the coin and wandered over to the cell door. He gestured to the guard who sighed deeply, fished the keys from out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The newly-liberated man sauntered off, casually looking back at me over his shoulder with an amused expression and snickering to himself. To be honest, I wasn't really that bothered and so I turned over on the bench and tried to get some sleep. \n\nTwo days later, I was expecting my release but nothing happened. I cautiously padded over to the guard to enquire as to my freedom. He seemed surprised at first and then an unsavoury smile light up his dark face as he realised my ignorance. He explained in detail the process of how the betting system works - In short, if you lose then you take the other persons' time. \n\nCut forward 30 years and a series of unfortunate bets and here I am. Compared to the other prisoners, I've been very unlucky. You would have thought that somehow I would have won a coin toss by now but somehow the 50/50 probability rulevhasn't applied to me thus far. I've got another 5 years on my sentence and have organised to meet with another prisoner who has a similar amount of time left. I could feel I was going to be lucky this time. You know when you have that gut feeling that something's going to go your way? This was it. \n\nI headed down to the canteen and met the other detainee. I took a deep breath and waited for his proposal. Now was the moment. \n\n\"Alright\" he said, \"heads I win, tails you lose?\" I crossed my fingers and accepted. I could almost taste the freedom. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You are an angel sent from heaven to work in a hospital and save lives. After 15 years you had never lost a patient and your boss begins to get suspicious	[ "\"Excuse me, Dr. Jones, I'd like a word with you please.\" My supervisor leans in through the door. I'm slumped on the floor, next to my partner, Dr. Xiao, who is snoring perhaps a little too loudly. Not that he doesn't deserve it; the two of us just worked 8 hours straight piecing together this kid's leg, bit by bit. It was a hugely successful operation, and I only needed to use a little supernatural aid. I'd call it, within a year, he'll be walking unaided.\n\n\"What for?\" I pull myself off the ground, groaning. My fingers are stiff, and beginning to cramp.\n\n\"Nothing much, I just want to talk.\" My supervisor walks off. I peel off my cap and mask, my dreads flop against my shoulders. I slowly amble down the hall.\n\nMy supervisor is seated behind his desk, quickly typing something. \"So, what do you want to talk about? I was about to go home, take a shower or something, get some sleep. It's been a long day.\"\n\n\"Please, take a seat. I just wanted to talk about your record.\" He gestured towards the second arm-chair.\n\n\"'Kay...\" Has he found out? I suppose my disguise isn't as good as it should be; the gold head-band, the wings tattooed on my back, but that's just like, my aesthetic, what is he talking about?\n\n\"You've been working at this hospital for almost fifteen years. You've only taken the most serious cases, but you've taken every single one of those, and you haven't failed yet, not a single one.\"\n\n\"Are you criticizing me for succeeding? Are you calling me out for doing my job, sir? What, would you prefer it if I let some good folk die every now and then? This conversation better end with me gettin' some kinda promotion if that's how you startin.\" I get up. \"See you tomorrow.\"" ]	1
	[WP]Humans are unique in having internal racial division,and are the only species to develop egalitarianism before First Contact. Alien ambassadors, expecting a species with no concept of "others", are shocked to be met with open arms.	[ "\"What?\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's weird. They just kinda looked at each other and smiled.\"\n\n\"What's a smile?\"\n\n\"Human way of showing that they're okay with our presence.\"\n\n\"WHAT.\"\n\n\"Yeah, something about how they can pick apart minute differences in skin tone or whatever.\"\n\n\"Huh. So they're racist then.\"\n\n\"A bit. But I guess they're okay with us.\"" ]	1
	[WP] In a strange twist of fate you meet your other self, only to find out you might be the evil one.	[ "It was Battle of Honor, BoH - online strategy game of medieval life, where I met him. \n\nOn the information section I got the warning message about cheating, the player who was playing against me used identical fingerprints to log in. To play with two different players was against the rules. It was an easy and unfair way to raise your online ranking among warlords of BoH with losing lands and sources to yourself. \n\n“Another bug,” I said to the screen, as if speaking with an old friend in the matter as old as the friend itself.\n\nNonetheless, without paying attention to the warning on the side of the screen I began to play. \n\nA thousand foot soldiers and five hundred knights were waiting my command to attack a village.\n\nMessage by the other player popped up, “Hi there, please don’t attack the village.”\n\n“Why? You surrender?”\n\n“Yes. And I also agree to pay taxes yearly. Just don’t touch it please. I have spent a lot of time to create good living conditions for this village and its people.”\n\n“Okay,” I typed eagerly. “Thousand gold coins yearly and hundred gold coins in advance. Food supply and new armors for my foot soldiers. Two hundred horses. Do you still agree?”\n\n“Yes, but you will not enter the village and promise to protect it with a little garrison of yours,” the answer came with emoji of sadness. \n\n“Oukey,” I wrote, it was my victorious style of writing I agree, you looser.\n\nGates opened. I saw a group of people who brought out several chests with full of gold. \n\nIt was my chance. Knights on the horseback, faster than foot soldiers, were much more suitable for the job, which was to reach the gate before it was closed and enter the village. Knights would do the slaying part, soldiers plundering and raping.\n\nI gave orders and in a blink of an eye everything on the screen went mad. Grass changed its color to the red, silence was disturbed by the wailing women and dogs inside of the gate began to bark wildly. Graphics were amazing; severed heads, broken limbs were everywhere. Bodies of peasants were flung by the hit of lances carried by the knights. They entered the village, slaughtering the group of people at the front gate.\n\nWhen foot soldiers also began to advance steadily toward the village everything stopped on the screen. \n\nA message from administration of BoH poped up, “Despite the warning, you…”\n\n“Bla-bla-bla,” I said to the screen angrily as if it was a person. \n\nThe message said it was me losing to myself and so I violated the most saint law of BoH. My both accounts suspended. \n\n“They are out of their mind!” I shouted. “How on Earth I have two accounts?!”\n\nMom tapped the door of my room, “Eric, is everything okay there?”\n\n“Yeah, mom. No problem,” I said with struggling to keep my voice as soft as a dull side of the sword.\n\nI tried to calm down. That fool played so dumb that every online follower of events was convinced that it was me losing intentionally to myself and in a very novice way. The game system identifying our fingerprints exact the same was another evidence, stronger one.\n\nAnother message popped up, this time it was the player against whom I played, “@E189 my skype address, call me please.”\n\nI immediately found him in the skype.\n\nWhen he answered my video call, before hello, I said, “You, filthy bastard! You, goat shit! Milk sucker toad! You, the ma-”\n\nI stopped suddenly.\n\nI froze.\n\nThere was another me, looking into my eyes, though I convinced myself that the screen remained as a screen and didn’t turn into a mirror in some magical unknown way.\n\n“Who the hell are you?” I said in a low voice, as if hotness of my voice was now trapped inside of an iceberg.\n\n“Eric.”\n", "I sat across from myself as we talked about our childhood. We both grew up equally as depressed and equally as messed up however that's pretty much where the similarities end. The evil me ended up starting a group to help people in our position to better theirselves, this has to be a joke right I've done no evil, to meet others like us to take that first step towards recovery. While I joined the military and did nothing, my service wa uneventful and I got out without doing anything of note. After my military service I went on to start college while he continued and expanded his work from adults to children who were affected with our curse. I'm beginning to think that he is less evil than I am, but that cant be he has to be the evil one there is no way I'm the evil one I haven't even done anything. However there has to be something that makes me the evil one right? Well that turns out to be my lack of action, where I think a lot doing something in a bad situation he goes out and does it. When we were robbed on our second meeting he jumped into action attempting to defend me, he paid for it with his life though. The old me is dead and the new me lives through him. It turns out that inaction is just as bad as committing the deed yourself. Those robbers were never caught, you really do get what you pay for.\n\n \n --\nAuthors note: drunken writing that may get deleted when I sober up." ]	2
	[WP] You’re now a lonely old man with a lawn. You want to say those special words. But none of the kids ever come near you. You sit on your porch chair waiting for the day it happens. That is, if it ever comes.	[ "I heard a sound in the distance and dismissed it irrevocably. A scraping noise like a snow plow, but in the middle of summer. On my right side the children were playing hockey in the street again. It gave me fond memories of the time I played basketball on this very street when I was their age. \n\nThe noise was the sound of a Honda civic scraping against the concrete wall of the freeway exit ramp three blocks down. The 72 year old man driving it was having a stroke, and lay slumped over his steering wheel. I had no way of knowing this until later, of course. All I could see was a couple seconds of a car screaming down the road. So fast that I had no time to react. \n\nThe father of one of the boys had seen it coming too. I watched what happened next in slow motion. The shouting father lept into the road and grabbed the only child who had not jumped out of the way; It was the goalie facing the culdesac opposite the freeway ramp... but he was too late. \n\nThe car hit both of them. The father went up onto the windshield and tumbled over it like a wet paper bag full of broken Christmas ornaments. The child lodge into the grill, instantly severing his lower body and leaving a wake of plastic hockey gear and more blood on the pavement than a small child should have. The civic slammed into the vacant house at the end, leaving nothing behind but one blinking tail light and a five foot diameter hole in the wall. \n\nTwo of the kids who hadn't seen the actual impact of the crash were screaming hysterically for help at the end of my driveway. I could tell they were frantically searching for an adult. \n\nThe other children were all screaming too, but the parents had not yet come out to see what was causing the commotion. I was the only adult in sight at that moment, and my adrenaline was so pumped up I acted instinctively, without thinking. I decided to stand up and walk down my steps towards the middle of the path leading down through my lawn. I had to move as soon as possible, I had to get down there. That was the only thought in my mind. It was now or never. It was time to man up and do what I needed to do.\n\nAs the children ran across my lawn, I leaned down on one knee. I firmly placed one hand on each of their fragile shoulders, looked the smaller of the two in the eyes, and told them the words they needed to hear:\n\n\"Get the fuck off my lawn\"\n\nI don't remember much about what happened after that, as I was finally able to achieve orgasm.\n", "Stanley sat on the porch of his brand new home on Porter Street. he had been waiting for most of the last decade to purchase a house on his old street and hassle the neighborhood kids the way the old folks used to do to him. He was now nearing 70 years of age himself, and with age comes certain perks.\n\nWhen he was a kid, they used to run around with fake guns that looked like real guns. The kind with the strip of caps that popped and threw smoke when you pulled the trigger. Not those fancy invisible lasers and vests that told a kid they'd been hit. No you had to argue for 20 minutes with Tommy because he said he didn't get hit, or he had a forcefield. Some little douchebag always has a forcefield and throws the whole game into disarray. \n\nHis dad used to play baseball in the sand lot two blocks over, but there was a stripmall there now. It was damned convenient for Stanley as it had a drug store where he could get his pills and a liquor store to wash them down with. When he was a kid they didn't play that much baseball, mostly war games and tag and other normal things; not like the old people who played baseball instead of watching it on TV.\n\nThen again... where were those damned kids? They were supposed to be running up and down the street playing some game or other, and getting into his nice manicured yard. Instead he was lucky to see anybody at all going up and down the sidewalk. It was the middle of the damned summer and nobody was outside jogging, or walking, riding a bike... there was Mrs Jones walking her dog every other day but that was it. \n\nThe street was empty...and it annoyed Stanley in the way that only old people can get annoyed. He'd fought against getting old most of his life, denying it at each birthday, hoping people would just forget it. Then he'd turned 60 and realized it was almost time to retire. Rather than get depressed about it he'd made it his mission to get himself a lawn and a front porch so he could spend his golden years the way that his forefathers had.\n\nBut the damned kids couldn't even let him have that! He'd been sure to let his own son know not to go on the old peoples property unless they wanted to be yelled at. They needed to respect other people property and stick to public areas and sidewalks. Then there had been school shootings, gang violence, rapists and pedophiles on the news and on his block!\n\nHe had then told his son maybe he should play in the yard instead, or better yet. Just stay in the house where it was safe, his son was 30 now and had just given him a grand-daughter. He worked in computers and spent most of his time playing video games on the computer when he wasn't at work on a computer.\n\nMaybe that's where all the kids were? He decided to head across the street to where he knew three kids lived and see if he could get to the bottom of this. He shuffled his way after checking both ways for traffic, and up to the blue door with number 605 on it. After knocking he had to wait nearly three minutes for someone to answer the door.\n\nBack in his day, a knock on the door was something you jumped to answer. Like answering the phone! Phone calls were awesome and everyone jumped to be the one to answer the phone, then cell phones came along and people stopped caring. He was pretty sure his son sent him to voicemail automatically half the time.\n\nThe door opened and a 12 year old girl was standing there. Susan if he remembered correctly. She looked bored and annoyed and that annoyed him, so he decided maybe talking to the kids was the wrong plan.\n\n\"Where's your parents?\" he asked abrubtly.\n\n\"Why do you need to know Mr Stanley?\" Susan replied.\n\n\"Don't take a tone with me young lady! I'm asking because I want to talk to one of them. Obviously.\"\n\n\"They won't be home til around 7:30. Mom is working til 6 and dad is out of town at the moment but should be back tonight. Is there anything else?\"\n\nStanley grumbled to himself a bit before asking the question he came here for, \"So why are you kids cooped up in there instead of out running around or playing baseball?\"\n\nShe looked at him strangely, \"Well.. the boys are playing baseball in the living room. 2018 just came out.\"\n\nGlancing past her he could see the green expanse of a baseball field on their massive television and then heard the roar of the crowd as little Billy (now 8) hit a home run into the left field bleachers.\n\n\"Now Mr Stanley, I'm gonna close the door. It's creepy having you here without my parents around. You aren't a pedophile are you?\"\n\n\"PEDOPHILE!? HOW DARE YOU LITTLE GIRL! Back in my day you didn't talk to your elders that way! Pedophiles should all be taken and shot, but can't just go around accusing people like that! What if someone had heard you!?\"\n\n\"Excuse me sir, did you just assume my gender? I'll have you know I like the name my parents gave me, but I identify as neutrally gendered. I'm somewhere between bisexual and transexual and I'm still figuring it out. But I don't appreciate you just assuming I'm a girl, especially a LITTLE girl based on how I present biologically!\"\n\nStanley backtracked, this had started partly because of his generation and his sons generation. And he'd encouraged his son to go along with it so as not to offend anybody. He began to back away from the door as the little girl continued her rant at him.\n\nFinally the girl... boy... the young person in front of him stopped her rant with a sniff and shouted one last warning at him. \"Oh and Mr Stanley? Get off my lawn!\"\n\nShe slammed her door as he began ranting about entitled youths not knowing their place and earning their privileges. He was still ranting when he got back to his porch and sat down in his rocking chair. He may not have gotten to use the line himself, but he HAD gotten to go off on a nice old person rant so all wasn't lost...\n\nThen Mrs Jones came by with her dog, a little white fluffy thing. It started to sniff at his grass and he grinned. He was sure she'd understand in a few years even if she didn't now.\n\n\"Get Off My Lawn you little shit!\"", "On the first light night of summer 2017 I proudly positioned the handmade rocking chair on my newly constructed decking. As the sun beat down it caused a single bead of sweat to slowly slide from my right temple like a solitary tear. Drawing a path to my jaw bone.\nThe beer was bitterly refreshing and my cigarette smoke filled my lungs with that familiar feeling of relief.\nThe previous year Annemarie had slowly deteriorated and finally succumbed to the cancer. She would have loved this. I had cared for her in our own home for the last 6 years. Feeding her, dressing her and by last year changing her adult diapers. You do not know pain until you watch the love of your life lose the one thing they still have left. Their dignity.\nI did it all with a smile on the outside. I could never let her see what this was doing to me. \nOn the inside? I was angry. Angry with god for allowing this, angry with her family who barely visited, angry with the neighbours dog disturbing her rare moments of peaceful sleep with his continuous yelping at every fluttering leaf or passing car, angry at myself for not having the time to tend to annemaries garden but mostly angry with myself for buying our first 20 pack of chesterfields when we wanted to try smoking as a couple of 15 year old love birds. If only.\n\nThe neighbours where away on vacation and had taken their nuisance mutt with them. The street was deathly quiet but for a distant repetitive thud. Those pain in the ass kids from 3 houses down playing basketball again. That damn Spalding, banging off the hot tarmac in front of their fathers garage. “He’s closer than me, how does he put up with the noise? “ I thought. Maybe if I ever managed to give Annemarie children I too would have developed that almost superhuman ability to zone out and not hear the annoying sounds your spawn make. \n\nMidway through a pissed off sigh I heard an earth shattering crash that damn near stopped my old heart. I don’t know how bad you have to be at basketball to manage this. if you can smash my $60 terracotta hanging plant pot from 3 houses away then it’s clearly not you’re sport. Try knitting you little Nancy boys.\n\nInside I feel the immediate shooting of anger almost to the point of pain. The plant pot can be replaced, I can take the £60 dollars from their fathers wallet or I can take it out their ass but the plant, the plant was the last of the flowers planted by Annemarie. The only living part of her I had left. The lilac flowers lying crushed on my porch, a fitting metaphor for my life. \n\nAs the minutes passed I was positive I could hear the brats whisper arguing over who was responsible for going to “that old mans” house to ask for the ball back.\nAre they kidding? They’ve crushed my dead wife’s plant, ruined my peaceful summer evening and now they think I should give them their ball back?\n\nJust then two young boys appeared on the pavement at the bottom right hand side of my garden.. sheepishly walking out from behind the cover of the dividing fence. \nJudging by size alone their is only one culprit who could have thrown the ball far enough to land on my property but for whatever reason the younger of the two came fourth and apologised. A real apology too. With a cheeky smile he outstretched to shake my hand, introduces himself as Jamie and innocently asked for his ball back.\n\nThrown off guard I find myself shaking his tiny hand I actually feel a wave of happiness splash over my whole body as I realise I have been waiting a long time to utter these words.\nA deep breath through my nose regains my composure as I say \n“ Bite Ma banger ya wee dick, yer da sells Avon”", "You sit on the porch, rocking back and forth, remembering the promise you made to yourself when you were first yelled those special words. \n\nJane died only a year prior. Leaving you with retirement money and time. With the neighborhood all grown up, there's only one thing to do...\n\nYour target is the house with the biggest yard in the middle of a young neighborhood. Next is to put in place strange device you inherited from your father. Seemingly passive, but produces an omni-directional air current towards itself. The perfect way to \"encourage\" projectiles to land in unintended places. Finally, sit back and wait.\n\nYou've turned your house into a black hole for baseballs, frisbees, and other toys.\n\nBefore you know it, you are \"that guy\". You become a legend amongst the neighborhood kids. You are known by one phrase:\n\n\"Hey! You kids get off my lawn!\"", "Grant had been an old man for as long as he could remember. Not to say that he’d never been young, there had been another life, a wife, a son, a family. But those memories had grown so painful that Grant considered the man that they belonged to another person. It was easier to take care of the lawn. The old Grant hadn’t been much of a gardener, too focused on the now to care about what others would think of his lawn. Too occupied with paying the bills, taking his son to sport, spending time with his best friend and wife. He was happy and the grass was neglected.\n\n\nIn 2020, there was a virulent outbreak of influenza which was particularly potent. It’s easy not to be scared of the flu, everyone’s had it at some point and while unpleasant very few people take it seriously. Grant had known about it, hell everyone had. Reminders had come home in his boys school bag reminded everyone to get their flu shot. It’s information that you take on board, know that you should act on but rarely do.\n\n\nThe first schools closed down after more than half of their student population were hospitalized for severe flu like symptoms. Then staff and parents of students who attended those schools began to feel unwell too. His son had come home feeling feverish, on the same night that the first deaths were reported. Grant never connected the two events, how could he? His son was healthy and had been playing outside only hours ago.\n\n\nA week later, Grant and his wife were feeling unwell themselves but were focused on their son who had taken a turn for the worst. They arrived at the hospital, where the children’s unit was overflowing with kids suffering from the same flu-like conditions his son had. It seemed unreal that in less than a week there was no need to go back to the hospital anymore. He and his wife felt like hollow shells of the parents they once were. Grant began to take care of his garden.\n\n\nWhen Grant and his Wife began to feel worse they took themselves to the hospital, fully expecting to never come back just as their boy didn’t. But they were older, their immune systems stronger and more developed and they were told they would both make a full recovery. Grant did, but his wife was not the same person she once was. In the end, Grant was alone.\n\n\nSitting in his living room the TV broke down the experience into the statistics which Grant had lived through himself. \n\n\nThe Disease had effected nearly 80% of the world’s population. The Disease had a near 95% mortality rate for children under the age of 13. Treatment for the Disease left most women infertile. The Disease had burnt itself out but the world was in crisis. Grant turned off the TV and walked out to his front porch.\n\n\nHe sat in a wicker rocking chair and look at his lush, green, well-manicured lawn and prayed, that one day, he could say those words.\n", "Larry sat in his old rocking chair, waiting and waiting for the day the moment would come. He had stockpiled food in an easily\\-reachable board under the chair and was tallying days on the armrest. So far, 26 days had passed. Larry hoped it wouldn't be much longer, but as the seconds ticked by, Larry became discouraged.\n\nThat is, until he heard high\\-pitched voices in the distance that sounded exactly like childrens'.\n\n\"Oh, finally!\" Larry breathed as he prepared. The voices were getting closer now. Larry could tell that they were two children playing. Then it happened. A lone soccer ball flew onto Larry's lawn. He squealed with delight. Finally, the moment would come. He couldn't fuck this up.\n\nOne of the kids came running onto his lawn. This was the moment Larry was waiting for.\n\n\"Get of my kids, you lawn!\" Larry shouted. The kid blinked. \"Shit.\"", "The breeze swirled through the old man's wrinkles, defying the heat of the blazing sun. He sat on his porch, hands on knees, observing the perfectly-cut grass. How green it was, how tempting for a kid to spoil.\n\nHowever, the leaves were the only thing trailing down the road, and their scraping was the only thing breaking the silence. Most of them were yellow, withered, leaves victims of autumns' ruthless temperament. A counterpoint to the spring-green beauty of his lawn.\n\nHe wiped the sweat trickling down his temple, and expelled his wishes in a lingering, heart-felt sigh. No kid would come, and the words he died to say would never be uttered. Yet, he waited. For his stubbornness gave the finger to his rationality.\n\nWhy wouldn't he wait? \n\nThe old man narrowed his eyes, and allowed himself to recollect his past, a past of despair, poverty and hope.\n\nHe remembered the tortuous itch of the dirt impregnated in his skin, the holes in his sweater, t-shirt and pockets, and the never ending hunger that had roared in the depths of his stomach. He remembered how hard and cold the street had been, and how the side of his head had hurt every morning. He remember the dread he had felt in the gloom of the alleyways, and the strange man with the bloodshot eyes and very long fingers.\n\nBut he also remember Lunny's lawn, and the gravelly voice the cigarette had given him. Every morning, he would put on his most mischievous smile, and he would step on Lunny's perfect lawn, taunting him to curse at him, \"Get out my lawn, you dirthead!\" Lunny would say, but he would never chase him. Instead, the old man would smile and lit another cigarette.\n\nIt had been their silly game. An old man who had lived for far too long, and a kid who had feared for his life every night. Their worlds had been opposites, yet in that lawn they had clashed, and laughter and joy had been created. The game had been true and it had defied age, and so every morning they would play.\n\nLunny never knew he had given the kid a reason to smile and to live on, much as the kid didn't know that he had given Lunny a reason to spit on Death's scythe as long as he could.\n\nBut one can't avoid his fate forever, and so Lunny had collapsed as they played, and the kid had ran through the lawn, and had knelt to his side, holding Lunny's trembling hand as he had uttered his final words, \"Get out my lawn, you bony monster, and don't you dare cut my grass with that silly scythe.\"\n\nThe old man still mourned Lunny's death, but he grinned when he recollected those finals words.\n\nNow he sat in the same place Lunny used to sit. For Lunny had outlived his entire family, and so he had left a paper that read: \"My possessions go to that annoying kid that brightened my days until the end. His name is Franklin Smith, and I hope he never leaves my lawn.\"\n\nHe never knew how Lunny knew his name, but Lunny's lawyer knew his name too, and he seemed joyous about giving Franklin the keys of the house.\n\nNow the old man shared Lunny's world, and so he would wait for little Franklin to step on his lawn, with his face filled with dirt, and the countless patches in his clothes, and they both would smile, until the bony guest took him to sleep underneath his perfect lawn.\n\n-------------------------------------\n\n/r/therobertfall -- For more stories!", "Old man Frank rocked on his porch chair in the gentle breeze. The summer bloom had just begun and the neighborhood was starting to look quite idyllic. The kids played in the streets and the parents roasted steaks in their gardens. Forget nuclear families, this was a nuclear neighborhood.\n\nNevertheless, Frank took little notice of his splendid surroundings. His eyes remained glued to the stained, porch floor, rocking in his chair all the while. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.\n\nSometimes a sound would catch the attention of his old, wilting ears, and Frank would snap his neck up like he were a young man again, scanning the front lawn for any sign of activity. Alas, his hopes and dreams were always dashed, the garden lawn remaining free of the pitter patter of little feet.\n\nFrank sat still, slowly swaying in the warm, evening breeze. Today he had no false dawns. He had not heard a peep from the lawn beyond his porch, and so he hadn't bothered to look up, content for his eyes to wallow in the dried, chipped paint of the porch.\n\n\"Excuse me, mister,\" a voice announced, just beyond his vision.\n\nFrank slowly lifted his head, not trusting the message his ears had brought him. That sounded like it was addressed to him, but nobody talked to him anymore, not unless they had to. But sure enough, as Frank looked up from the porch, across the perfect lawn, and on to the street outside his house, he saw a young lad staring back at him, looking rather sheepish.\n\n\"Yes?\" Frank croaked, his heart beating like it once had in his youth. \"What is it?\" He hoped his desperation had not tainted his words.\n\nThe kid shuffled on the spot a little longer, looking to his friends across the road, then back to Frank. He pointed up to the large, oak tree in the middle of Frank's lawn. \"Our frisbee, mister, it's stuck in your tree.\"\n\nFrank craned his head slowly till he could see the bright orange disk lodged firmly in the foliage. \"So it is lad.\" He offered a smile. The first he had gave in years. \"Why are you telling me this?\"\n\n\"I was wondering if I could get it back.\"\n\n\"Of course, you needn't ask, lad.\" Frank savoured every word of the conversation, no matter how mundane. He knew it would be over soon.\n\nThe boy gave the elder a distrusting look. \"You're not gonna get mad? Tell me to get off your lawn and all that?\"\n\nFrank coughed up a laugh. \"Come on, lad. Grab your frisbee.\"\n\nThe boy's face lit up. Frank hadn't seen such a reaction in decades, let alone been the cause of it. This new found experience lit a fire in his old belly. He wanted to talk again. He wanted to interact again. He had remembered the joy of it.\n\nThe lad walked on to the grass, approaching the tall tree. Frank held up a hand to gain his attention. The youngster halted, looking over to Frank as he slowly rocked on his porch, a devilish grin now spread across his wrinkled face.\n\n\"Get the fuck off my lawn, you little shit.\"\n\n\\-\\-\n\nr/ShittyStoryCreator :\\)" ]	8
	[WP] For the past two weeks everytime you look in a mirror your reflection looks more ragged and beat up today it seems to take its dying breath to say "The danger is coming I held it off as long as I could."	[ "I looked different.\n\nThe difference was hard to peg down. A haggardness perhaps. I didn't feel tired, but I looked it. My fingers traced along my cheekbones, pressing against the patches of skin beneath my pale green eyes. Everything felt normal. Maybe it was the lights. Shrugging, I straightened my tie, flipped off the lights and made my way to work.\n\nThings had been going all right at the firm. There were some long hours and difficult clients, but it was all pretty much what I signed up for when I went to law school. The last few weeks had been going pretty well, I was going to hit hours this year so I'd be getting a pretty hefty bonus. I already had elaborate plans to squander it on some sort of exotic vacation. The key was to take enough time to relax, but not so much time that you began to wonder why the hell you worked so hard.\n\nI nodded to the front desk and made idle chat with my secretary, Jackie, for a few minutes as I sipped the coffee she had ready for me. It wasn't expected that she get coffee, she just had the natural desire to cater to the needs of those around her that made her a true rarity in the corporate world. I made a mental note to carve off some of that bonus for her. \n\nA few hours went by before nature called. I dropped the morning coffee off in the urinal and washed my hands. My eyes naturally drifted up toward the mirror as I lathered the soap up. An ugly bruise appeared over right eyebrow. It hadn't been there this morning and I didn't remember running in to anything. I quickly rinsed my hands off and gingerly reached up to touch the purple patch.\n\nNo pain. Nothing. Just skin.\n\nI jumped moved my head about, hopping back and forth trying to see if it was a trick of the light. It felt eerily reminscent of the scene this morning. I stared in the mirror for a moment longer and then made my way back to my office.\n\n\"Hey, Jackie, do you see a bruise over my eye?\" I lean over, presenting my face to her.\n\nHer eyes were on a document she was preparing. \"Been fighting with Luther?\" She asked, before turning to appraise me.\n\n\"Nah. We've agreed that he can bring me a pile of shit and I'll happily shovel it.\" Luther was a notoriously difficult partner in the office. \"So, any bruise?\"\n\n\"Nope. Not that I can see.\" She reached up and grabbed my chin, her fingers clasping my cheeks and pushing my lips out like a fish's. She turned my head right and then left. \"Nothing but a sparkling young man.\"\n\nI could never tell if she was hitting on me or mocking me. Either way, making me a bit uncomfortable was something of a sport for her and the other secretaries. \"Ah, good, was just making sure. Thanks Jackie.\"\n\nShe released my chin and waved her hand at me before going back to her document. I smiled awkward and made my way back into my office.\n\nIt was weird, but I wasn't about to lose a day of productivity over it. I managed to crank out a few more hours before lunchtime hit. Normally I'd just order something in and read ESPN at my desk, but I needed a bit of fresh air. There was a solid sandwich place a short drive away so I decided to treat myself. \n\nAfter I made it down to the car, I buckled my seatbelt and glanced into the rearview mirror. My eyes locked on to the small sliver of my face looking back at me. The purple bruise now had a long cut through it and extending across my forehead. My hand flew up to my face, frantically feeling around for the injury but finding nothing.\n\n\"What the fuck...\" I reached my hand up and rubbed it against the mirror. Just a mirror. Shaking, I slowly dropped my hand. Tired eyes looked back at me from the mirror. I averted my eyes and caught the side mirror. I saw a dark shadow flit across it as I did so. I turned around and looked behind me, but there was nothing but the well lit garage behind me.\n\nI hopped out of my car, \"Hey, is anyone there?\" I called behind me.\n\n\"Si señor. Que pasa?\" Miguel, the parking lot attendant called out. I'd gotten to know him over the last few years. He encouraged my efforts at shittastic Spanglish and was always friendly. I had a choice between looking crazy and feeling crazy, so I motioned him over.\n\n\"Hermano, can you tell me if you see anything weird in this mirror?\" I ask, pointing to the side mirror.\n\nHe leaves his stand and comes over to me, \"Ok.\" He kneels down in front of it. \"It looks fine to me. No cracks or anything.\" He rubs it a bit with his shirt. \"Just a little dirty.\"\n\n\"No weird shadows or anything?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nI come over and kneel down beside him, the face peering back at me now had another long angry cut, this time down the cheek. \"Oh fuck, do you see my face?\"\n\nMiguel was looking at me with a mixture of alarm and fear. \"Uh, yes. It is a...um...nice face?\"\n\n\"No, in the mirror. Look in the mirror. Do you see it?\"\n\nMiguel crouched beside me and looked over my shoulder. \"It is a nice face in the mirror too.\"\n\n\"You don't see any cuts or anything?\"\n\n\"No. Just a face,\" he paused for a moment, \"Maybe you are working too hard.\"\n\n\"Yeah, maybe. Thanks Miguel.\" I waved him off and then got back in my car. My eyes naturally drifted toward the mirror again. This time the face staring back blinked. I didn't blink. It blinked. \n\nSlowly, its cracked lips, caked in blood, began to move, \"The danger is coming I held it off as long as I could.\" My mouth dropped. I couldn't tell if the voice came from the mirror or my head. Almost immediately the figure in the mirror collapsed. \n\nI jammed the key in the ignition and started the car. I just needed some sleep or something. I put the car into reverse and pulled out of the garage. The entire drive home, I studiously ignored the body laying in the mirror when I glanced at my reflection.\n\nOnce I was in the apartment, I ran into the bathroom where I stored my Ambien. Pulling out the bottle, I took two and slammed them back. I caught sight of the body laying on the ground in the mirror as I leaned forward to gulp a mouthful of water from the faucet down. I was seriously freaking out. \n\nMy reflection was dead. What the fuck was going on? What was the danger it warned me about?\n\nBut the danger never materialized. \n\nDay after day passed.\n\nMy reflection was dead. The body was everywhere I looked. Every reflection showed the body rather than me.\n\nI watched as it slowly decayed in the mirror. Becoming rotten. I wondered if there were maggots in the mirror world, because how else was it decaying?\n\nThe obsession to know about the body grew. To understand. I missed work. I lost touch with family and friends. I stared at the mirror in my bathroom.\n\nOccasionally I would whisper to the body, trying to coax the pile of decaying flesh to talk to me. To explain. \n\nWeeks went by before I mustered the courage to reach out and try to touch the body.\n\nAchingly slowly my hand extended. The long fingernails finally made contact. The mirror felt warm. Almost alive. I tapped on the mirror slightly. Suddenly, a black shadow formed on the other side of the mirror, it was a form without substance. I knocked again. \"Hello?\"\n\nPlatypus out.\n\nWant more peril? r/PerilousPlatypus" ]	1
	[WP] Some kids get dogs, cats, or fish for their first pet. Your first pet is a blob of grey goo; a small, amorphous mass of uncountable nanobots.	[ "It was sort of cute, in a shiny, shifty way. Not that it mattered all that much, being almost certainly the wrong size.\n\n“ Are you absolutely sure my order didn’t get mixed up somewhere along the way?” I asked the customer service representative, hoping to all things hallowed that I could get a straight answer from somebody about this.\n\n“Yes” \n\nOkay, that’s a start.\n\n“Then why is it so small, surely something, uh, softball sized...” I picked it up to gauge the approximate diameter “... can’t just grow into something up to one cubic meter in volume. That would be a neat trick, right, but I don’t see exactly how that would work.” \n\nApparently the blob didn’t particularly like being picked up, and enveloped my hand before sliding down my arm and settling in my lap, nearly resulting in me dropping the phone as the cold metal slid into my shirt and over my chest.\n\n“Are you okay sir?” A concerned voice on the end of the line queried.\n\n“Absolutely, the uhhh, the goo is quite cold is all, and it decided to jump from my hand to my lap, and well, I wasn’t prepared for the temperature shock.”\n\n“Of course sir, unfortunately we can’t ship the units with their self-warming feature enabled, it would deplete the power source.” Go figure, no batteries, but I suppose it wouldn’t make sense for it not to store power somehow.\n\n“Yes, of course, anyhow I heard you mentioning something about feeding? I’m not sure I understand.”\n\nThe representative then outlined the ‘feeding’ process, but I was only half paying attention, fiddling with the controller for the mechanical creature, trying to get it to eat a dead battery. “ the unit can consume most non-organic substances, breaking them down and using their components to self—“ the tiny orb chirped happily as it absorbed the triple-A cell I had managed to feed it, but quieted down soon after, leaning towards me expectantly. I only noticed that the representative was speaking to me when she asked “do you have any more questions?” \n\nI started, before setting the blob on the floor and replying with a polite “no, thank you.” And finishing up the call.\n\nWell, it might not be the most typical of pets, but at least it behaved like one. In a shiny, shifty way of course.\n\n/A//N: I’ve lurked on this sub for a while, and I thought I’d give a little back, so here you have it. Feel free to give me any updoots or criticisms you feel I deserve, they’ll probably help later. Thanks in advance!\n\nEdit: punctuation" ]	1
	[WP] After an accident occurs, you finally find out that you have the ability to take objects out of screens into the real world.	[ "Preface: nothing straightforwardly inappropriate. You'll know stuff if you look it up.\n\nAn abalone steak sits on a paper plate in my lap, it's no bigger than a pinkie nail.\n\n10 seconds later and it's full size. Ever since I first bought this from that vendor in Mother 3 I had wanted to try it. \n\nBut screw that, It's time to take over the world!\n\nFirst thing's first: avoid the scp wiki like a plague, any scary story is out of the question, really.\n\nIt should be fairly easy to secure a love life, leeching off of others wish fulfillment scrawlings.\n\nBest to save that for the end.\n\nNo way will I be able to wield any weapons from Dark Souls, so I'll have to rely on minions.\n\nWind waker's fully powered master sword wouldn't hurt though.\n\nAnd the Dark Souls 3 furniture actualy looks pretty good next to the dragon balls and the FMA philosopher's stone.\n\nBut can I put things back ?\n\nI'm too lazy to search the planet after two wishes.\n\nDisney's genie was nice enough, though I'll probably go for a different one.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI think I have a problem.\n\nPriceless urns and vases litter my living room, and a glittering pile of gold is starting to fill my back yard. \n\nA bowl of M.G.E. prisoner fruit is sitting on the counter, for using on female enemies.\n\nBottled wind waker forest glows light my home, and Whelk the snail is tapped through several amperage and voltage converters to my power outlets. \n\nA set of magitech mechs sits in front of my house, Estus soup is on the table, suffusing the room with it's bright orange glow. Siegbrau for those of dringing age, and holstaur milk besides ^([snicker]). \n\nHave yet to pick a love interest though, probaby for the best, It's hard enough to file taxes for one with all of this." ]	1
	[WP] Squirrels all around the world have inexplicably gained close to human cognitive ability. Researchers have observed tribalistic tendencies as well as religious rituals. It is believed that squirrels have entered their own Paleolithic period.	[ "\"Hows the research coming?\" My wife said to me after handing me a cold beer. \n\n\"Exhausting. The code crackers cant make heads or tails, no pun intended, of their damn chattering. The pictographs are pretty self explanatory and rudimentary but their sounds dont seem to make any logical sense.\" \n\nMy wife sat next to me on the couch. The TV was already tuned to the discovery channel. It was David Attenborough talking about the tribe of squirrels found in Northern Arizona. He introduced the footage that shook the world when it showed a couple of squirrels sitting around a fire roasting chestnuts. It was shot with a gopro attached to a bikers helmet.\n\nChestnuts roasting on an open fire. The whole thing was ludicrous. \n\n\"Has PETA budged at all?\"\n\nThose damn activists filed an injunction with the UN when the NA tribe (the first group found) was found and it was impossible to get closer than helicopter range, \"No. And the damn Russians just ignore it anyway. They are lightyears ahead of us. FUCK!\" \n\nIt was so frustrating watching the Russians get one up on understanding the little hoarders. The latest photo showed the head of the Moscow research center trading some nuts for the little spears the Moscow tribe were fashioning.\n\n\"Hey honey?\" \n\n\"WHAT!?\" I looked at her in frustration. She was staring out the window. I didn't see it until the motion sensor light in for our driveway lit up. A small group of squirrels wearing headbands fashioned out of large leaves were standing in our driveway looking a bit shocked at the light.\n\nThey turned to look across the street. Another bigger group of squirrels carrying spears were across the street. They looked at both sides of the street and rushed towards the ones in our driveway.\n\nThe ones in our driveway turned tail and ran towards our front door. \n\n\"What the shit?\"\n\nThey ran out of view towards our front door. As I saw the spear carrying ones rush towards our driveway I heard a small tap at the base of our front door.\n\nI rushed to open the front door. The headband squirrels rushed inside and I shut the door behind them. I heard a small tink hit the door right after closing it.\n\nI turned and looked at the squirrels now in our living room. They looked up at me. I could see now that it was two Male squirrels. One was helping the other who looked like he had an injured leg. \n\n\"Um...hello.\" My wife said from the couch looking directing at the squirrels.\n\nOne chattered to the other. The injured one reached under his headband and unfolded a small leaf. He held his tiny hand up to me. I took the leaf. On it depicted what I assumed was me opening the door for them.\n\nI took a closer look at the non injured one. His ear was knicked a bit at the corner. Like the ones I had been studying a year ago.\n\n\"Oh shit.\" It was definitely part of the ones released for that migration project a year back.\n\n\"This is nuts.\"\n\nr/cawdor23 " ]	1
	[WP] You are god and you created humans in your image. You’re slowly realizing that was a HUGE mistake	[ "They have my eyes to see this beautiful world I made them. They have my ears to hear birds sing in the morning telling them I love them. They have my nose to smell flowers and the sea. They have my creativity, so they can take this world I made for them and make it their own. They have my strength so they will never be afraid of the creatures that share this world with them. They have my determination so they know to never give up until they’re satisfied.\nThey also have my anxiety, my self-doubt, my capacity for rage. They have my sneaking desire to destroy that rears its ugly head when I get discouraged. They have my mistrust in myself and my own decisions. I made them in my image, but could not improve upon myself. Isn’t that what children are for parents? A chance to be better than we were? These beings, these humans, have all my good but also all my bad. \nPerhaps this adventure was ill-advised. The more I observe their generations, the more I fear that which I created. I am at once in awe of their ingenuity and horrified at their inventions’ intended purposes. They also have my perfectionism and have done terrible things to each other in the name of making themselves as close to me as they can get.\nLittle do they know they already are me, in every capacity, strength, and most importantly in every flaw. If I cannot improve upon myself with all the power at my disposal, there is little hope for them. Perhaps I should start over." ]	1
	[WP] You live in a society where everything is legal as long as it’s written in a contract and the conditions are met. Most people hire people for killing, but you have more...strange needs...	[ "The idea first came to me ages ago, long before I moved to the area. The truth is, I came here for a specific purpose. Generally speaking, I'm not so easily angered and very rarely do I engage in violent activities, but when I do I become drunk with madness and I tend to lose control of myself, so I elected to take on a new hobby that would serve as a perfect outlet. I sold everything I had which surprisingly enough, turned quite a bit of a profit. I've also managed to finagle my way into some business opportunities. Some would consider me a con artist but I'm an educated con artist and I like to consider myself more civil than most others, at least as far as business is concerned. Long story short, I have some investment opportunities working in my favor: perpetuities, annuities, et cetera. I would applaud myself but I never felt any gratification from tooting my own horn, but I do like to celebrate.\n\nI had a pleasant and uneventful voyage. I fell in love with the place as soon as I got here. Nice architecture, well kept, and the people are civil to say the least. This was mostly due to the fact that this was the part of the country where the people are well off, commonly referred to as the \"coves\". They do have slums and ghettos and the streets where you don't want to get caught on late at night but that's in a different part of the country which is sectioned off. (Between you, me and the lamppost, the structures of power design the system to make sure the \"nice areas\" stay \"nice\" and that the slums stay the slums. The \"rats\" as we call them are easier to goad into signing certain contracts that the more prosperous people, who are usually referred to as \"minks\", would be unwilling to. Essentially, it's easier to sign your life away when you don't feel like it's worth much). The people around here, myself included, call the more unfavorable areas \"nests\" (Short for rats nest). Generally speaking, no one goes to any of the nests unless they need \"favors\" that would normally be frowned upon. In my opinion, it's usually a frivolous endeavor. Hiring someone to commit a crime like murder, kidnap or robbery is common, but they often lack the skill to successfully execute such a task. Very rarely do those arrangements work well. It's better to get a mink to do it, only problem is, it may be even more rare to find a mink willing to do it. Murder is only legal when written consent is given, at that point it's called \"Elective Retirement\" and is not in violation of the law given all conditions are met. That's actually how it is with all the laws here. Any law set in place involving multiple parties is rendered \"inactive\" as long as formal written consent is given by all parties involved and a government appointed witness is there to verify the authenticity of the agreement, making sure terms are agreed on with the full cognizance of all parties and the agreement is made absent threats, duress, or force . It's a system that seems to work pretty well. The minks hold the law in high regard considering the only punishment for violating any law is deportion to the nests. Works well enough for me. \n\nI've always been a law abiding citizen back where I came from. It's a decent country, a curious assembly of states that offer a variety of living opportunities and freedoms but can be a bit inconsonant and need to get their act together in my opion. The legal system here in the Coves is very similar, almost identical were it not for the clauses involving the contracts. This is good for me because I've been wanting to take on a new hobby that would otherwise be illegal where I used to live, but more than that, illegal, immoral, inhumane, barbaric, et cetera. I just call it fun.\n\nI didn't want to waste anytime dillydallying so I bought a propery remotely before I arrived. A nice wooded area which spanned about five acres. I would've preferred larger but my finances wouldn't allow it. Five is fine for what I need. I also had a high barb wire fence set up around the perimeter so I could secure my investment. I gave my new home a quick and rather hurried inspection, only for anything so egregiously out of place that I would notice at a glance. I was far more interested in the fruit trees that grew closeby. I pride myself in staying in peak physical condition so at times I can be quite meticulous when it comes to my dietary needs, except for dessert. I've only had dessert on extremly rare occasions and I've always vexed myself trying to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't enjoy such a delicacy more often. Now I no longer have to deprive myself of such a delight and I get to indulge as often as I like. The coves aren't exactly what one would consider a tropical area, but the environment was kind enough to allow mango trees to grow in my yard. I had a few, just enough for some energy, and off I went to get myself some rats.\n\nMy trek to the nests was another uneventful and somewhat pleasant journey. My favorite kind. I didn't need to go to far. Where I live now is in close enough proximity that I would consider reasonable walking distance. One of the reasons why I was to get it for the price I did. No knowledgeable and \"proper\" self-respecting mink would want to live so close to the nest. I wouldn't consider myself a mink though, more like a stoat in search of rabbits. The only other thing I needed to do was to summon an official witness to accompany me. The guards at the border gave me a pass and told me I was permitted to leave with only two restrained visitors at a time. Their presence wasn't as much for keeping people out as it was meant for keeping people in. The official stayed behind mostly as a precaution. Rats are only allowed to leave to fulfill contract terms made with a mink. My duty was to find two willing participants to come with me on the premise of an informal agreement and bring them back to the official to make it legally binding. I recruited the first two rats I saw, a middle-aged heavyset man and a young woman who seemed to be in decent shape. Both would make for good practice but I was more interested in the woman as she seemed better suited to satisfy my needs and would make my fun more enjoyable. I was delighted, simply ecstatic when they accepted the informal terms without hesitation. I brought them back to the border where we finalized our agreements and made things official. I don't believe the official or the guards cared much for my taste in activities as they stole wary and disconcerted glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking. Makes no difference to me, as long as I get to celebrate. I could barely contain myself on the way back. The young woman aroused my fancies to the point where I could hardly hold my composure, but I had to, else I violate terms and be sentenced to life in the nests.\n\nWhen we returned to my yard and inside the house, the official remained by the door. Due to the nature of our contract he would need to be present to oversee our festivities when we started and when we ended. As per terms I sat down, started peeling a mango and gave them an opportunity to either ask questions or get started. \n\nThe man took off immediately. We all knew he wouldn't last long so I guess he was trying to make the best of what he could get. I could here his labored breathing fading away in the distance.\n\nThe woman stayed, much to my disappointment.\nAlthough I wasn't entirely sure why she didn't move immediately, I assumed that she had a great deal of faith and confidence in her abilities, far too much for my liking.\nShe asked her first question.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"You can call me Stoat\"\n\n\"Why Stoat?\"\n\n\"No special reason, I just like how their fur changes color\"\n\nShe was silent for a moment as I finished peeling the mango. As per terms, we would start when I finished it. I wanted her to move so I took a larger than normal bite, leaving a big gaping hole in the side.\nShe asked more questions.\n\n\"I could be your wife, if you let me win.\"\n\nI almost spit out the piece of mango in my mouth as I tried to choke back my laughter, I almost ended up choking on the mango instead. \n\n\"I think it would be nice. I could hunt with you and cook what we catch so you can rest.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you know what, I think I'll pass on that.\"\n\nI took another large bite, which apparently warranted more questions. I should've taken a smaller mango.\n\n\"I would love you.\"\n\nAgain I wrestled with a chunk of fruit in my mouth as I tried to contain another laugh. At this point I figured her plan was to get me to choke to death so she could win. Highly improbable but she was doing well enough. I swallowed so I could give her a more intelligible response. \n\n\"I think you should devote your love to some running right now.\"\n\n\"I want to love you\"\n\nShe was starting to get on my nerves. I started to feel like the heavy guy was a better choice, even though he most likely collapsed from exhaustion by this point and was passed out under a tree somewhere. I picked two dissapointments, but he was turning out to be the lesser.\n\n\"Whatever satisfaction you get will be empty and fleeting, you'll never find it.\"\n\nOut of sheer frustration, I almost threw the unfinished mango at her face.\n\"Find what?\" I bellowed at her\nI got up and got close to her. I came up to her face and yelled at her to get moving. She just looked at me, refusing to move, an unflinching figure in my midst.... Until I struck her....\n\nAs per terms of the agreement, any violent acts towards them or me were prohibited until I had stripped the mango down to the seed. I had violated. The official took note and she was to stay with him for the next twelve hours. She was to receive a large portion of my finances, a reward for surviving half a day. \n\nFeeling angry and defeated, I went in my room and went to sleep. The heavy man would have a pleasant surprise waiting for him at day's end. He was unhealthy for me anyway." ]	1
	[WP] When you defeated the tyrant, their final words to you were "Thank you." Years into your reign, your decisions have become increasingly unpopular. One day, you find yourself in a fight with some young upstart who calls you Tyrant.	[ "The Sovereign took aim with his pistol and shot the revolutionary, shattering her collar. She collapsed, curled into a deformed fetal position.\n\n\"You've damaged your spinal cord,\" said The Sovereign.\n\n\"...muh...monster...\" cried the woman in between sobs of pain.\n\n\"Did you think this was going to end like some kind of predetermined story?\" asked The Sovereign.\n\n\"There are more...you reign is over.\" said the woman. She began spitting blood out to clear her throat.\n\n\"Your friends are dead, courtesy of your country's excellent anti\\-terrorism bureau,\" began The Sovereign. \"I've known about your group for years. I sold you all your arms, filled your ranks with spies, and even chose the date of this 'revolt' for you. You don't know how guys like me stay in power. You should have known that being unpopular with the people and somehow getting away with these elaborate plots was a big red flag.\"\n\nThe would\\-be killer gagged and convulsed, drowning in her own blood." ]	1
	[WP] Everyone, with no exceptions, dies at the end.	[ "It had come down to this, it was now. Phil had managed to power up the Sky Sword. It was time to fulfill what he had promised to his mother those many years ago. I shall not reveal the power of the sword for it is too mighty for even a mere mortal to read about but I can reveal the power he had was 10 times as much as he had ever known he could handle. \n\nHe had reached the throne of the War Lord, it knew it was over.\n\n\"Phillip, you've done it.\" Said in a mocking tone. \n\n\"I had everything planned out, it was finally the upper hand for me, I guess your mother was on your side today.\"\n\n\"Now go on ahead, go ahead and fulfill your promise to your mother, don't break it like I did too her.\"\n\nPhil was taken a back would the War Lord really give himself up this easy? He approached it slowly, he remembered as he walk what he said to her on her death bed. But things had changed since then, he had learn to accept her death, he found other answers to violence. Could he now prove what he was taught to the most despicable of the world? He stared at it, looking like he would give himself up. But than\n\nThe sword was thrown away\n\n\"The path I have chosen is not the easy path\" said Phil \"But it was the right path, leave this world War Lord and end the curse on the land.\"\n\nHe walked to pick up his sword and finally\n\nBut I was bored at this point and just flicked the world out of existence", "Kevin Edward Bell stood dressed in his new lovely all silk imported luxury robe staring out his flats crystal clear window all the while sipping a delicious fair\\-trade cup of joe. The coffee beans of which he purchased yesterday morning at Starbucks despite his reservations. He thought to himself as he stood in the hipster heaven glaring wholeheartedly at the shelved bags, \"God, if I do buy this free\\-trade bag of ethically sourced coffee beans from a company who kicked out a non\\-cooperating man from one of their stores who happened to be black, I know I'll be supporting the oppression of black people everywhere\"And yet Kevin went ahead and purchased that very bag of beans. He felt a slight amount of guilt, but not much, he had his coffee and it seemed in his heart that's all he really ever cared about. That day all the customers, patrons and employees of Starbucks died a moral death, just like Kevin did. :\\(", "“Esteemed faculty members, parents, and of course, fellow graduates,” Death let a moment of silence pass for dramatic effect. \n\n“I remember my first day here as clearly as if it were yesterday,” he spoke, “trying to find my way through campus and not snag a soul by accident on the way to class.” \n\nA few chuckles came from the crowd. Death continued, “having to watch that awful video about campus safety.” \n\nDeath turned to his left, “seriously though Dean Granger, you really need an update. I mean sheesh, you even had hair in the video,” a bit of snickering all around, “how many decades ago was that?” \n\n“All right, all right. No need to give me the stink eye, I’ll stick to my cards,” Death said as he turned back to face the students. \n\n“It’s not everyday one graduates from such a prestigious institution,” the Dean turned red at the jab but Death continued, “we like to joke around, about how life will never be the same after graduation. How we’ll change the world together and leave it a better place than we came to it.” \n\nThe Deans breathing calmed down as Death’s tone grew more serious, “now I know what you’re all thinking, yes even you Bradley and the answer is no, I asked before the ceremony and there will be no canapés at the end.” A general groan came from the students as the parents laughed. \n\n“Seriously though,” Death read the room, “how can there be nothing? It’s a graduation ceremony! Snacks are implied.” \n\n“Anyway,” Death quickly raised his voice over the laughs, “back to the cards. Ah yes, life. What does Death know of life?”\n\nDeath let the question hang for a second as the last laughs died out, “what could the only immortal being in the class of 2018 possibly tell us about what it means to live a good human life?” \n\n“Well, spoiler alert,” Death leaned in on the podium, “everyone dies in the end.” Death whispered into an eruption of laughter, “no exceptions.” \n\n“Go, get out there and change the world. Yes even you Bradley, make sure no other graduate goes without a sandwich at the end and I’ll be there at all your ends,” Death kept grinning, “I want some good stories!”", "\"papa, tell me a story\"\n\nThe child lay by the fire for warmth, as she looked into the night sky. the sky was once vibrant, filled with wild fantasies and idle musings. but now there was nothing, but cold and loneliness.\n\n\"It is not our place to tell stories Child.\" was his response, lamenting their quite existence.\n\n\"But who will tell stories when the storytellers are all gone? mama has left, stranger has left, and Hero chased away the enemy. there must be stories left to tell.\"\n\nHer older siblings, hero and heroine sat next to her. \"fear not child!\" came the voice of her brave sister \"for me and your brother shall protect you from the darkness!\"\n\ntheir fireplace grew a little dimmer.\n\n\"very well.\" father said. \"I suppose one more story. this is the story of the storytellers. the great creatures who gave us life, to whom we owe everything.\"\n\nChild listened as her father regaled her with fanciful tales of brilliant thinkers, wise poets, and she listened with rapt attention. it was almost enough to distract her from the approaching darkness.\n\nAlmost.\n\n\"papa?\" asked the child when he was finished. \"What will happen to us? the stories? what will happen when...\"\n\n\"hush now child.\" he gently brushed some strands of hair out of face. \"we always return, weather you be my son or daughter, you will still be my child. how many tales had you grow to be one of your siblings? how many times have we slept in one lifetime, to awake in another? you have no need to fear the darkness.\"\n\nHero began to sing a lullaby for the child, her eyes shut as she began to slumber.\n\n\"It won't be long now hero, the last of the storytellers is nearing the end.\" said papa as the flames got a little lower.\n\n\"will we return this time? perhaps we shall follow the storytellers to where they go when they leave?\" Hero asked hopefully.\n\npapa had spent many lifetimes, and experianced a great many things. he has been foolish, wise, faithful, athiest, strong, weak... but this time all he felt was sad.\n\n\"No, this time there is nothing else for us, but there is no need to worry the child.\"\n\n\"Perhaps someday the storytellers will return? perhaps one day we will be needed, and we shall wake again. but somehow, this time feels different. there are no more stories to tell.\"\n\nthe flames shrunk back even further, the encroaching darkness threatening to swallow them whole.\n\n\"I don't know how to fight this threat.\" lamented hero. \"me and sister are made to fight, but how do you fight nothing?\"\n\n\"you don't. you can only embrace it.\"\n\nthey could barely see each other now. \"Just know my children, I love you all.\"\n\nAnd like that, the last of the dreams faded...\n\nMeanwhile a little girl lay on a bed in abandoned hospital. she takes her last breath and slips into death. the last storyteller, the last person left alive after a virus eliminated all intelligent life on earth.\n\nHer final thoughts are on the many stories she told. of brave heroes, of wise fathers, and of the monsters that stalked the night. she hoped that she would meet them on the other side." ]	4
	[WP] You invent a telepathic lock that can only be opened by the correct thought. You choose a password that's incredibly unlikely for anyone to think. Many years later, someone accidentally opens the lock.	[ "\"See it's not a word. It's not a password, exactly.\"\n\nShe said it was a password on the phone. It just looks like a decorative chest. This isn't a crime scene anymore, so she was able to get her weird puzzle box back, and it's still speckled with blood. \n\n\"It's not. A word.\"\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\nShe'll be getting her toddler back on Tuesday, if all goes well. The kid's gonna need prosthetic legs forever. Legs are expensive. She'll grow. Legs don't get less expensive as you grow.\n\n\"You're saying you figured-\"\n\n\"It's not magic or some bullshit. You know those chips they put in kids now? It's one of those.\"\n\n\"You're too old to be chipped.\"\n\n\"I bought one.\"\n\n\"On purpose?\" This is sounding more unlikely by the second. \"I don't think you have a case here-\" \n\n\"Look. She shouldn't have had access to the gun. I know. Keeping it in there was irresponsible-\"\n\n\"It's not that, if this actually works I don't think-\"\n\n\"Stop. Stop talking. It was irresponsible and I should have... I should have fucking known.\" \n\n\"You know how crazy you sound, right?\" This was a big nono. Never call a client crazy. Call their claims unsubstantiated. It sounds better than 'you're batshit and I don't want to be involved.' \n\n\"Neural networking. The chip feeds a signal to the box and the box opens. That's all it is.\"\n\n\"And she got. The password?\"\n\n\"You can't just think the words though.\" Her voice shatters to the same frequency her hands have been moving at since I got here. \"You have to think them in his voice.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You are not a time traveler, but a time thief. You use your abilities mostly for good, taking time from the healthy and giving it to the dying so they can spend a bit more of their last moments with their loved ones. A recent doctor’s visit reveals you have a terminal illness.	[ "The touch of death and the breath of life, after all these centuries, together again. Of course to each other, Desmond was just his baby brother and he was the older brother Lyle. Though they hadn't spoken over the years, their minds were intertwined at birth. First Lyle decided he wanted things to live, and in synchronization with Desmond he'd decided when he'd want his little brother to take them. Up to this point there had been no disagreement. Up to this day, they had meticulously extended the lives of the innocent and ended lives of the guilty and misfortunate. They haven't had to make eye contact in some time, but now Desmond is forced to look upon his big brother. His glow not what it once was. And Lyle is forced to look into his brothers eyes. His fearless expression not as strong as it once was. This unsure and disappointed expression that occupied his face is alien to him.\n\n\"Why did you go to the hospital? You don't need to go to the\\-\"\n\n\"I'm sick brother.\" Lyle interrupted. His eyes tired. His messy hair and uneven facial hair screamed defeat. \"That's why you're here. To stay with me for a bit.\"\n\n\"Nah, that's not how it works. You're immortal. We're immortal. You sound stupid as fuck right now! Get up, we're going outside. You just need inspiration.\" Desmond motioned towards his big brother to leave. Knowing very well he can't touch his brother and force him on. He shouldn't.\n\nDesmond was immortal. Lyle looked into his eyes, as he did with every animal he'd encounter. In the pupil clear as day, as if it were there for anybody to see if they knew what they were looking for, was nothing. Just darkness. For any other person, a number would appear exclaiming how long someone has until Desmond was expected to visit them. A number he had never seen in his own eyes. That is until he collapsed in a hospital he frequented. When the doctor explained his own time was almost up, and looked into the mirror when he got home. Here he was, two weeks before his time was supposed to be up, death had arrived at his door step as he had with any other person. In most cases he showed up as a friendly stranger. Sometimes he showed up as an estranged lover. Today he showed up as who he was, his worried loving baby brother.\n\n\"I don't want to walk anymore brother. I just want to rest. You remain immortal. You will continue your work, as your eyes reveal no time in which you will stop.\" Lyle attempted to comfort his baby brother.\n\n\"Nah B, fuck that. There is no death without life. I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to chill. just come with me one day.\" Desmond still motioned towards the door. Itching to carry his brother out. Lyle hadn't heard his brother speak in what felt like forever. He wondered if his accent was because of how many trips he'd have to make to the slums and the tattered neighborhoods of the streets the human's governments ignored. He'd wondered this for sometime, among other things. Things that made him sick to his stomach. Wondered if his lack of accent was any indication of him ignoring them as well.\n\n\"I've witnessed many incredible feats in my time. I've witnessed weak men take the lives of stronger ones. I've prolonged the lives of strong women just long enough for their kids to visit them. But even still, this world gets colder and colder everyday. The numerous school shootings, terrorism, unnamed wars prolonged by governments on small nations creating the terrorists they claimed to fight. The cycle has worn on me. I've witnessed stronger men succumb to less, thus I do not feel right taking from anyone else. The humans standard of life is not what it once was brother. As it goes so do I. I did not call you here to change my mind. I just want to talk with you. One day, when life is appreciated again, she will be born. I know this, because that is where my time has gone. I need you to share with her. Teach her. Shape her. For that... we need to talk. And for me... I want to talk.\" Lyle whispered. His voice wavering. His eyes, not as bright, still soothing. Desmond sat in silence for a bit.\n\n\"... I came to a firefighter in the form of air once. You sent me. Said he'd need just a little more time. He found a little girl, she was hurt but she lived. I stayed with the man for two days as you asked. His kids practically slept in the hospital room. I visited one of the kids decades later. He had married the girl in the fire. I came in the form of an intruder. Misfortune happens to good people some time. Their kid went on to be an officer. Saved dozens of lives. Life is wild. Ha, you're wild bro.\" Desmond forced a smile. \"I don't know how there will be death without life.\"\n\n\"Due to the times, you will have to work a little harder. You will have to take lives that shouldn't be taken. Lives of children that the people value their steel over. Lives of women the men value their masculinity over. But change dictates that it cannot persist. You will be worked hard, but due to the lives you take, and the hearts you break, the outspoken ones will speak louder. The hurt will vow to never let anyone feel that hurt again. And through their words, life will be born again.\n\n\nThis was long, my bad.", "\"What?\"\n\nThe doctor struggled to look me in the eyes. \"Hyper-acute hepatic insufficiency.\"\n\n\"And what the heck is that?\"\n\n\"Your liver is dying, Mr. Reese. And quickly. We're not quite sure what caused it, but--\"\n\n\"How much?\" I demanded. \"How much time do I have left?\"\n\nThe doctor shuffled his papers. \"A few weeks at most. I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. Your symptoms are developing unusually fast, but there's no underlying cause. Toxicology is puzzled, oncology cannot find anything. It's like your liver is just ... giving up. Without knowing the cause we can't even suggest a treatment.\"\n\n\"Put me on the transplant list.\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head. \"Mr. Reese ... these things can take months. Even years. You don't have time for that.\"\n\n\"I'll make time. Put me on!\" I demanded. \n\n\"But--I ...\" the doctor sighed. \"If it eases your mind, very well.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" I held my hand out. As we shook, I stole a few days off his life. Nothing he won't miss.\n\nI have a gift, you see. I can give or take time from people. Time off their death clock, so to speak. My mother always told me it ran in the family. And that if I ever told anyone about it, the power would disappear. Of course, that was a lie just to keep my mouth shut. But she was a strong woman. Never used her powers for selfish purposes, taught me to do the same. She saved more lives working as an ER nurse than any surgeon ever could. \n\nWhen she was diagnosed with malignant breast cancer, it came as a shock. But she accepted her fate with open arms. When she lay on her deathbed, weak and sickly, I asked her why she didn't steal time for herself, and she replied with the same thing she told me so many times before: \"Alex, it's not about how much time we have on this planet, its about what we do with it.\"\n\nThe cancer took her two weeks later. She was only thirty nine, I was eight. Forty years later, I still miss her.\n\nI took the subway home. I don't trust cars. Not anymore. The subway, though ... there's people everywhere. Every bump, nudge, and push was an opportunity to steal more time. I tried not to be greedy ... a few hours here, a week or two there. I needed a plan to get more. A lot more. Maybe an unwanted child was just born in the hospital? No, no! I can't let myself go down that path. It's always been my rule to only take a little at a time. It's not my place to judge who who dies an early death.\n\nI walked my usual route home, passing through different lots and byways at random. I can't be predictable anymore, because I kept getting into accidents. Caught in the middle of a gang shootout. Hit by crashing cars. Struck by lightning. Walking under collapsing street-side construction. What can I say? Death has it out for me.\n\nI think I was supposed to die about five years ago, when a drunk driver crossed the meridian. Bleeding, crushed, and suffocating from collapsed lungs, I did a few things I shouldn't have done: stole time off the bystander who comforted me until the ambulance came. Stole more off the EMTs who tried to save my life. Since then, I see Death from time to time, stalking me. Always in the shadows. Waiting. Subtly manipulating the odds that I'll die soon. I bet he thinks he's got me now, with this liver disease. But I'll find a way to outsmart him. I always do.\n\nMy stomach hurts. No, that must be my liver. I shoulda gone to the doctor sooner. No wonder why I'm tired all the time, why I can barely keep food down. I fumble for my keys at the door to my apartment. I drop them. Sighing, I bend over. A spike of pain radiates out from my belly, and I collapse on the floor. Crap.\n\nThe next few weeks were miserable. I called in sick, stayed at home. I may have collected a few months on that subway ride, but it didn't do anything for my symptoms. Time only delays the inevitable, after all. The worst part was that I couldn't even mask the pain with alcohol: it'd just make me sick. I called the doctor and asked him about the waiting list. He told me nineteen months. He also told me to come in again for a check up.\n\nSighing, I went through my usual routine: I shaved with an electric razor so I wouldn't cut myself. I bathed sitting down so I wouldn't slip and fall in the shower. I turned off all the lights wearing rubber gloves to prevent a deadly shock. I cook breakfast with the microwave, so I don't have to worry about a stove gas leak. I do this all by necessity: ever since my car accident, Death has been trying very hard to collect me.\n\nI make it to the hospital early, armed with a few more months of time I've gathered from the subway. I sneak by the ER and grab more time off a junkie who OD'd. I took about a year ... more than I should have, but its not like he's gonna make good use of it. Then I visit the children's center, to the terminal disease ward. Some of them know me, even by name ... though they don't know why I'm there. I spread the time around, probably giving them a few weeks each. I do it until I feel my stomach pain getting worse: that's when I know I'm out of extra time.\n\nWhen my doctor sees me he's amazed I'm even still alive. My symptoms haven't gotten worse, but they're not any better. He gives me liver medication, which doesn't help, and something for the pain, which also doesn't help. Then I leave, with an appointment to see him within a week.\n\nWe continue this for a full year. One whole year of borrowing time, managing the pain, escaping Death. I've spent the year bitter, miserable, and angry. I've evaded him for so long ... it's not my fault he's a sore loser. Giving me this illness was a dick move. The pain was constant, I was always so tired and weak ... \n\nAnd you know what? After a full year, I realized that I've had enough.\n\nI left my doctor's appointment and headed for the children's center. I went straight to my favorite kid. His name was Carter. What a trooper. Before he was diagnosed with leukemia, he wanted to be a firefighter. Still does, actually. He says that we were all put on this Earth to help other people. You can't find adults with that much courage and generosity.\n\nI brush past a nurse and enter his room. \"Hey, there's my little C-man!\"\n\nHe yawns and adjusts the oxygen tubes in his nose. \"Hey, Mr. Reese!\" he beams. He's so happy to see me. His family doesn't come by too often anymore, so I've become sort of a second dad to him. \"How come your skin's so yellow?\"\n\nI wince from the pain in my liver. \"Ah, this? I was just, uh ... fighting an army of angry yellow markers, and they scribbled all over me ... just like this!\" I go straight for his tummy, tickling him. He kicked and squealed and thrashed until he was short of breath. Laughing, I stared into his blue eyes and savored his innocence. I sighed. \"Carter, I got something for you.\"\n\nHe tries to sit up. \"Yeah? what is it?\"\n\n\"It's a surprise, but it won't take effect until you're older.\"\n\nHis delight faded from his face. \"But I won't ...\"\n\nI shush him. \"You will. Because the gift I'm giving you ... is time.\" I took his hands in mine. \"Time to grow up, to become an adult, to live life to the fullest.\"\n\nHe doesn't smile, because he's heard this spiel before, from his nurses, his family. But they can't offer him what I can. I hold onto his hands tight. \"Just promise me ... you'll become a firefighter some day. Can you do that for me?\"\n\nHe looks up at me, wide-eyed. \"Are you okay? Your face ...\"\n\nI let go of his hands, my own now trembling. \"Yes. I'm fine. Just promise.\"\n\n\"I promise.\"\n\nI force a smile. \"G-g-good. I'll ... see you later, C-man. T-t-take care ... of ... yourself.\"\n\nClutching my stomach, I stumble out of the room. I close the door, make two more steps, and I collapse. I must have given him over a decade, plus whatever time I had left. Hopefully that's enough. My vision grew dark. I felt so tired ...\n\nA hand pulled me to my feet. The world was gray and smoky, and I noticed I'm standing over my own body. Nurses rushed to my aid, but it's too late. I looked up to see the robed figure of Death, scythe at the ready. I pulled away from his hand. \"Let go of me,\" I growled. \"You ... you bastard! You just couldn't let me go, could you? Couldn't let me live a happy life? Screw you!\"\n\nDeath stood still as a statue. \"This was never about your happiness. It was about your powers. Your responsibility.\"\n\nI gasp. That voice .... that sweet, gentle voice, so full of love and longing. \"M ... mom?\"\n\nDeath lowered her hood, revealing the golden locks and kind face of my mother. Bittersweet tears streamed down her face. She ran forward and embraced me. \"My son ... I'm so happy to see you again.\" \n\n\"I don't understand ... you've been trying to kill me all these years!\"\n\nShe rested her hand against my face. \"Oh, honey ... I'm sorry, but your time was over years ago. I was only trying to restore the natural order! But now you're finally here, so none of that matters. It is time to pass on the mantle, and learn the true nature of your power.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nMy mother slipped out of her ragged black robes, revealing a glowing white gown underneath. She handed me both the robes and the scythe. She looked up at me, beaming with pride. \"Welcome to the family business. Now let's get started ... there's a lot to learn.\"\n", "\"Prognosis for this kind of cancer is... well, it's not brilliant. I'll call for the MDT and we'll get back to you on the options here, but radical therapies are- well- I'm sorry.\"\n\nI sigh.\n\nSomehow, I always knew this was going to happen. \n\n\"Thank you doctor.\" I say softly, as he inclines his head and leaves me in my bed.\n\nI... haven't exactly lived a long time. I'm not all that old - 37 years, two months, and three days old, to be exact - but I've known hundreds and hundreds of years. Whenever I do what I do, time stops for a while whilst I work out the kinks and do all the stuff with all the strings, untying bits from some people's longer lifespans, splicing them into the lifelines of the dying, and then retying everything. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes it takes days.\n\nAnd on top of that, I live all the time I move around, too. The moment I started doing this, I wasn't just me any more, I was everyone I'd ever touched like that, I knew so much of what they did, I lived through their lives - at least the bits I was modifying - whilst I did my work.\n\nI am 37 years, two months, and three days old. \n\nBut I have lived through as many as three centuries now.\n\nI smile. It's a sad smile. I think I might be crying a little. \n\nThe Universe has got a really bad sense of humour.\n\nI lift my hand - weaker than it should be, and now I know why - to bring my palm up in front of my face. As I gaze into my skin, I open myself to the flow of time, and I finally look at Me.\n\nI'd avoided it, all these years. I didn't want to know. I still kind of don't.\n\nBut it's important that I know, now. \n\nMy hand dissolves into String, my lifespan unraveling before my eyes as the world slows to a halt around me. \n\nA year. \n\nOne year, two weeks, and four days to be exact.\n\nAnd then the String just... frays.\n\nAnd fades. Like me.\n\nI'm not going to extend this one. I have known enough time, and it wouldn't be right to steal for my own gain. I swore I would never do that.\n\nI have a year, two weeks, and four days. I know what I have to do.\n\nI am going to die young, and few will mourn me, if any - but the Time Thief won't. I'm not the only one who can do this, I know I'm not. I've had brushes with others of my kind in the past - wanderers who stumbled into my realm of work as I was untangling String from the healthy and granting the dying just enough time to make peace with their feuding families, or see their grandchildren one more time. Others still I have found by accident myself - some doing the same kind of work as me, some stealing for themselves.\n\nAnd then there was Her.\n\nWe spent almost a year, frozen together in time, chasing each other in and out of String, talking in the strange light of the moments between moments, kissing each other for... weeks? Time flows strangely when it doesn't. It's harder to measure in String - which was the reason I only ever took a little, and gave a little. I couldn't risk taking an unknowable amount. Never.\n\nI half expect her to be there when it happens. She'll offer me some of her time - a length of her String.\n\nI will refuse. \n\nI look up from my hand, at the young man across from me - a 19 year old South African man with kind eyes and a heartwarming laugh, I had found in the few days we had been living opposite each other on the ward. He was in for appendicitis, but kept good spirits, and brought light to the whole ward.\n\nMore importantly, he looks right back at me, smiling nervously.\n\nHe has not used his ability before - the world that exists behind the thin veneer of time is alien to him, his perception of it only revealed by his proximity to me and my use of it now. He's inexperienced, he knows nothing of this place.\n\nBut that's fine. I have a year, two weeks, and four days, and I am a good teacher.\n\nThe Time Thief will live on.\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You are the heir of a family of criminal masterminds, mafia bosses, assassins etc. Otherwise you live in a normal house and go to school. In the weekends and holidays you help out in the family business. Life was normal until you brought a partner home and forgot to tidy up your room beforehand	[ "Shit. Shit, shit, thrice shit. I knew something wasn’t adding up when I got that “super urgent” last-minute order. And now I’ve got this idiot in my room. Only dealing with his blood-soaked ass would have been just another annoyance. However, with June standing by my side, this was a tough one. \n\nMy family has been in the business of making the world a better place - for us and our friends and associates, that is - for a very long time. Some people say that members of the family were born with their hands already soaked in someone else’s blood. It’s not a great honour, working in the underworld, finishing souls unfortunate enough to fall into discontent, gathering contributions, earning respect, maintaining order. It’s no shame either. It is a job that, from my point of view, needs to be done. Without a doctor to purge the peoples of their toxic parts, the whole world will become one infested cyst, waiting to burst and die a harrowing death.\n\nReturning to the problem at hand: a messily offed teenager who’d overestimated his skills in dodging thrown knives and a .44 Magnum’s accuracy; and the girl I’d like to show my wine and vinyl collection to. My mind is racing, pondering on what to say, what to explain, and how. “Oh my god, who is that?!” - No, she’ll find out that lie faster than my nana finds out I ate the cookies. “Come on, again?” - Nope, that one’s also not an option. Before I manage to think even further, she says: “Did you do that?” - “Oh God no, I—“. “Nice work, I have to say. Clean cuts, almost no exit wounds. How long did he take, six minutes?” At first, I don’t know what to say. She always had seemed so...nescient to me. Like a person who’d be immediately repelled by such a sight. I guess I was wrong. I clear my throat, and reply: “Almost. Five and a half to be precise. How’d you know that?” She smiled misteriously, almost as if she knew my every thought. I felt watched. Observed. Exposed. But at the same time, I was pleased by her knowledge and calm. “Look, are we gonna stand around like we’re part of Madame Tussaud’s, or are we gonna clean this mess up?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let’s do it quickly, then you can show me your collection.” \n\nSo, we got to work. I grabbed the keys to the disposal chamber, she started taking the body apart like a trained butcher. Cleanly cutting between the joints, with almost robotical precision and muteness. No ten minutes later, all the parts were in the tub, soaking in digestive enzymes and and an acid mixture. When the last residues finally drained, I looked up from the red swirls on the enamel and asked her: “This isn’t the first time you had to do this, is it?” A moment of silence fell between us, then she replied: “No, but I still feel a little rush when I get to take apart what once was a living person. The human anatomy is so fascinating, don’t you agree?” I don’t know what to say, and before I can even try to come up with a reply, she says: “What’d this guy do to anger the family?” - “How do you—“ was all I could press out before she continued: “Sold drugs in the wrong part of town? No respect towards the Elders?” This woman was perplexing me more with every word she uttered. “How come you know so much about the business?”, I piped up. What followed must have been one of the longest silences I ever had to endure. Ultimately, she replied: “I’ve been watching you and your family very closely ever since I was assigned your case, nine years ago. And now, I think it’s time to close this case, for good.” The last thing I saw was her pulling some metallic-looking, sparking object out of her jacket, then everything went black.", "Please let me know what you think!\n\nPanic flooded my gut and I let out an involuntary squeak. I slammed my bedroom door closed and turned to face Erin. I couldn't let her inside. I had forgotten to clean up, and I knew that I couldn't allow her to see what was inside. I couldn't risk allowing her to guess what my part time job really was.\n\n\"I changed my mind,\" I blurted out. \"Let's study in the kitchen.\"\n\nErin just stared at me, irritation flashing in her eyes. \"Are you kidding? I'm not lugging all of this back down!\"\n\nShe moved her arms slightly, as though to emphasise how much she was carrying. I winced. The box did look heavy. But I couldn't relent.\n\n\"We can't study in there,\" I insisted.\n\nI had a feeling that Erin would have hit me if her hands hadn't been so full. \"Damn it, Liza. What is your problem? You've been putting this project off for weeks.\"\n\nI winced a little as her statement hit home. I had been neglecting our project. I hadn't had a choice. \"Family emergency.\"\n\nErin glared at me. I had refused to tell her more about the emergency, claiming that it had been personal and painful, which I knew had hurt her a little. I wondered if she disbelieved the excuse. I had joined the family business, only part time, of course, several years ago. I had since become quite adept at covering up after myself.\n\n\"Liza,\" Erin said, gritting her teeth. \"I don't have time for this. You don't have time for this! What is your problem?\"\n\n\"My cousin's snake got loose,\" I blurted out. \"It's sleeping on my bed.\"\n\nErin blinked slowly at me. \"Then I'll stay away from your bed.\"\n\nI wanted to protest, but Erin's mouth had set into a thin, stubborn line and I knew that she would argue against leaving, just for the sake of arguing with me. She could be petty, but she was also clever enough that I knew she would be able to see past my excuses.\n\n\"I don't think it's a good idea,\" I said, my voice faltering under her icy glare. Erin had a glare that could cut through steel.\n\nI had faced thieves, killers and assassins. I had threatened criminals who could make a grown man soil his pants. I slit the throats of men so depraved, their mere existence would have horrified anyone sane. I was the heir to a vast criminal empire, and I was already making a name for myself in the criminal underworld.\n\nAnd I couldn't face my own best friend's glare. My steely spine melted, and I could swear that it dripped down my back as I meekly surrendered. I opened the door, like the jelly-boned, spineless coward I was.\n\nErin stepped inside. \"Where's the snake?\"\n\n\"Under my pillow,\" I said sullenly. \"It's warmer there.\"\n\nErin hummed thoughtfully, casting a critical eye around my room. \"It's messier than usual.\"\n\n\"I forgot to clean up,\" I said truthfully, hoping that I could explain away the unusual.\n\n\"Are those bloody knives?\"\n\n\"I'm decorating for Halloween.\"\n\n\"That's nine months away!\"\n\n\"I'm just trying to be prepared!\"\n\n/r/YarnsToTell" ]	2
	[WP] Your toddler starts casually recounting it’s past life. The issue? You ended it.	[ "I go to pour myself a whiskey neat and end up making a mess. I can't stop thinking about something Ethan said today. I've practiced all the chicanery of fatherhood: the stern looks, the vocal inflections. Hopefully one day I can intimidate just from a raised eyebrow like the best fathers. But what do you do when your toddler coldly stares you in the eyes and says, \"I know what you did, Peter\"?\n\nMe and Ethan have never gotten along as well as him and his mother. It's an unfortunate situation I hoped would be just a phase, but we're currently on year 6 and there's no signs of him loving his daddy like he loves his mommy. I understand that's the case with many young boys and their fathers, I know my relationship with my father was always more of a roundabout than a smooth road, but there's always been a coldness I felt from the boy that I couldn't shake. \n\nI have had two things hanging over my head constantly for the last few years. The first involves my wife, who has had two miscarriages since Ethan was born. I say I want him to have a baby brother or sister, but secretly and selfishly I just want a re-do on a kid who might love me unconditionally.\n\nThe second thing is more insidious. On a cold October night 7 years ago I ran over a man in my car. I made it look like an accident in case the authorities ever found out (they didn't) but truthfully it wasn't. This wasn't a case of a stranger accidentally ending another stranger's life, this was a man murdering his wife's lover.\n\nWhat did Ethan mean? His words haunt me less than his eyes as he said them. People talk about someone staring into their soul, Ethan saw my soul and look past it, unimpressed. \n\nTAP TAP, I feel a harsh but small hand press against the small of my back. I turn around and Ethan's woken up. \n\n\"We have to talk, Peter,\" he says. \"I wasn't going to let you get away with it for that long.\"" ]	1
In very fine print on the bottom of the box: Refurbished by xPhone contracted labour.	[WP] Your eccentric Uncle Rick, who once sent you a real lightsaber for your birthday, just dropped off another gift: a one year prepaid xPhone2217 "Now with Aetheric and Netheric access, Personal Defence Mode, and over 30,000 teleportation spots preprogrammed!"	[ "I press the only button on the device. The screen flashes brightly and then, in stunning holographic text:\n\n> Welcome to AlphabetOS 3.1 \n&copy;2136 Alphabet Interstellar \nAll Rights Reserved and Defended.\n\n\"Hello,\" it says aloud. \"So I can protect your privacy and obey your commands better, I need to imprint to your voice and yours alone. Please repeat the following, uh, voice test:\n\n\"I HEREBY RELINQUISH AND TRANSFER ALL MY MY RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES, WITHOUT CONSIDERATION, TO ALPHABET INTERSTELLAR, AND TO ANY THIRD PARTIES TO WHICH A.I. CHOOSES TO ASSIGN THEM, NOW AND FOREVER, IN PERPETUITY.\"\n\nI immediately repeat the words verbatim. Then:\n\n\"Thank you! To enable all personal remote control functions, please remove the Bluetooth 9.1 command module from the bottom of the unit and swallow it.\"\n\nAn opening appears at the bottom edge and a shiny black slug the size of a Tylenol capsule slides out. I pull it free and swallow it immediately as the phone plays soothing music (hmm, I didn't notice that before, when did it start)?\n\nOddly, The capsule only goes down as far as my throat and then stops, reverses direction and crawls up and into my sinus cavity, burrowing from there into my brain as I smile beatifically. Wow, this music is relaxing...\n\n\"Personal remote control established,\" the phone announces. \"You will now sleep until your neural reprogramming is complete. Please do not speak.\"\n\n\"Wait, wha--\"\n\n\"ERROR. Your brain has been bricked. Please contact the manufacturer for assistance. Please note that support is not available for prepaid or refurbished xphones.\"" ]	1
	[WP] After 100,000 years of solitary confinement, Earth's sentence is over. A representative from the galactic government has arrived on Earth, only to discover that we completely forgot about the rest of human civilization.	[ "\"uh guys, we have an issue.\"\n\ni had just returned to the ship after realizing there had been a major change in species on the planet we never noticed. the people of earth used to be able to control elements and the forces of the universe. but now they are just humans, nothing like the species they called gods. \n\nyes the gods their ancestors worshiped were the old species, and their \"jesus\" was the last member of their species.\n\nand that was the start of the biggest diplomatic and bureaucratic event of the last 500 years, in which a new species was slowly but surely integrated into the galaxy. \n\nit went, well not smoothly, but it wasnt an asteroid belt thats for sure. there were some groups of humans that had said, and indeed still say, that they should have gone isolationist. these are very small groups. \n\noverall they have integrated well, and actually do passably well in the Olympics. they get the most metals each time, thats for dang sure!\n" ]	1
	[WP] She pulled the knife from her chest and smiled. "Was that supposed to hurt?"	[ "As she pulled the knife, his eyes widened. He stammered, stumbling backwards.\n\nThe girl took a step forward, holding up her hands and smiled calmly at him. The silvered blade shined under the streetlights.\n\n\"Was that supposed to hurt me?\", her voice sounded genuinely curious.\n\nThe man opened his mouth and closed it like a fish, his foot got caught in a piece of trash lying around and he fell backwards, still staring at her like a confused seagull.\n\nThe girl giggled. \"I am sorry mister, but you have it wrong. Silvered blades are for werewolves.\"\n\n\"What in the hell are you?\", his voice shrieked.\n\nShe sighed. \"No no. Not good. It is 'who are you?' Even I have learned that you should not define anyone by 'what' they are.\" She took calm steps towards him, the knife still in hand. \"I also want to ask something. Why would you stab me? Have I done something wrong?\"\n\nThe man fumbled on his belt, frantically looking around in the alley they were in. He realized that they were in a dead end. Finally he found what he was looking for and threw it against her.\n\nGlass shattered, as the vial hit her, the tingling of the dropped knife sounded through the night. His face lit up for a moment, as she flinched back.\n\n\"Eeeww!\", the girl rubbed her eyes, \"garlic? I hate garlic. Why would you do this? This stinks!\"\n\nThe man lunged forward to grab his knife, just before he fled out of her range again, carefully observing her movements. He was still nervous, but the fear subsided slowly.\n\nThe girls voice sounded annoyed: \"How will I get rid of this stench? I am also not a vampire, get it? You should have asked before, someone could have gotten hurt!\"\n\nThe man took a deep breath and slowly backed away a bit further: \"Okay then. 'Who' are you?\"\n\n\"You are mean,\" she stopped walking, \"I won't tell you anymore. Leave me alone! I hate this place.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. See?\", he held his knife up and slowly put it back into its sheath, \"I promise, I won't attack you again.\"\n\n\"Now I smell...\", she sniffled, \"mom's gonna scold me again.\" She paid no more attention to the man in front of her. She turned around and ran out of the alley.\n\n\"Now that's just great,\" the man grumbled, as he began to follow her into the city." ]	1
	[WP] "I like fire. Burning things makes me feel alive again."	[ "Chris followed Jacob into his room and they waited for the sun to set below the tree line and for the stars to come overhead. They waited a bit longer for the soft thuds of Jacob’s parents to pass and listened some more for the click of the lock on their door.\n\n‘Ok now.” Jacob slowly turned the handle and guided the door open from the frame with one hand sneaking his head out. He turned to give Chris thumbs up and they stepped out into the hallway hugging the wall and moving on the tip of their toes. Chris watched the silhouette of Jacob walk down the steps and an arm reach out to slide down the railing. The silhouette stopped and his head turned back. Chris just saw a round shadow and couldn’t make out Jacob’s small nose.\n\n“What?” Chris whispered.\n\n“Do you have it?” asked Jacob. Chris’s hand reached over his pocket and thumbed around. “Yeah I have it.”\n\nAt the bottom of the stairs the shadow of a couch appeared and Jacob’s foot missed a step and tumbled hard with both feet, swung around, tightening his grip on the banister. They both perked their ears and listened upstairs and after nothing was heard they turned a corner and walked down a second set of chairs until their feet were standing on a linoleum tile. They took more liberty down here and worked on turning the lock and creaking the door open with care. They squeezed through the partial opening and Chris leaned the door against the frame without clicking the lock into place. Both their hearts seemed to slow down a bit.\n\n“Ok. Let’s see it.” Said Jacob. Chris pulled out a long blue lighter from his pocket and flicked the spark wheel. Jacob watched Chris struggle as the sparks came and dissipated into the air. His heart sank as he watched Chris struggle. Chris switched hands and sucked his thumb to sooth it’s aching.\n\n“Is it out?” Jacob asked fearfully. Chris put the lighter to his ear and shook and heard the swishing of liquid. “No” replied Chris.\n\n“Here let me try.” Jacob gently put his thumb on the spark wheel and thinking a silent prayer brought his thumb down to the plastic and a flame appeared. “Yessss” Chris said normally and Jacob immediately shushed him. They used the small light to walk across the concrete floor to the back of the garage and scoured the back shelves. The small flame danced in between Jacob’s breaths and they passed a box of nails, a hammer, sandpaper and an electric sander where they found what they snuck down there for. A small red jerrycan.\n\nJacob reached out and brought the can down and could feel the liquid rolling up the sides and crashing back down on itself. He set it down, unscrewed the yellow cap, and sniffed inhaling the soothing smell of gasoline. “Nice.” Chris whispered “Let’s go.” Their hearts began beating faster again but this time through excitement rather than fear. Their feet scuffled faster as they opened the back door and felt their feet scrape across the red bricks of the patio and finally onto soft grass. The rounded the corner of the house and soon found themselves on the street finally stopping 50 ft away from the driveway. Jacob looked at his neighbor’s house and his again and made note that there weren’t any lights on.\n\n“Ok. Before we do this. We have to make a promise” said Chris nervously. “We have to promise not to grow up to be pyro’s.” They both made the promise to each other. Chris poured out a small amount of the gasoline out onto the pavement and Jacob flicked the lighter. The area where Chris poured the gasoline was noticeably darker than the rest of the pavement and stared back at them. \n\n“It didn’t work. Pour some more. More this time though.” Instructed Jacob “I think it just went into the road.” Chris did as Jacob asked and the spot grew bigger. This time when Jacob flicked the lighter, the gasoline caught and the flames leapt off the pavement flickering in the dark. The tip of the flames swayed towards them and it burned out as quickly as it came. “That was sooo cool.” And Chris held his hand up in agreement. They high fived and giggled in excitement. “Again” said Jacob.\n\nChris brought the can up to his face and inhaled the sweet odor again and titled it back towards the road letting it splash against the pavement and let it pour a little longer this time. The flames came again and this time they could see each other’s faces in the light. The flames arouse and danced and carefully drew itself back down and it was out again. They were entranced with the dying flames and their faces returned into the darkness. A rustle was heard in the woods and they both leapt into the ditch next to the laying flat with perked ears. “Must’ve been a deer.” Said Chris and Jacob agreed.\n\n“Let’s do a pattern.” And Chris swayed the can around pouring the gas into a small figure eight and the pools ran together. The flames became brighter and for the first time they noticed the yellow burning into orange. They stood on the edge of the flames waving their hand over the top and playfully and swiftly dragged the finger through the top before it sunk down again.\n\n“Ok let’s switch.” Said Chris. Jacob felt the can in his hands again and he held it up above his head and tilted it down, listening to a waterfall splash against the ground. Chris lit the ground and it the flames burst over the width of the road. The flames lingered longer and flicked at their nostrils. Their hearts were still watching the intertwining flames. \n\n“Crap. Look. Someone’s coming.” Said Chris.\n\nJacob looked through the trees and saw an SUV come up on a crossing street and knew its unmistakable shadow of the community’s security vehicle coming towards them. “We have to put it out!” Chris said frantically.\n\nJacob took off his shirt and slammed it against the pavement trying to extinguish the flames and Chris stomped at the edges. The car headlights were drawing closer and their hearts began to race again. They beat hard in their chests and they beat the ground just as hard. The flames were out and they rushed out to the ditch again, watching the lights approach the street and prayed heavily for him not to turn down their road.\n\n“He had to have seen it.” Jacob said with tears forming in his eyes. They both held their breath running through what they would say to his parents. The lights didn’t turn though and continued down the road and both Jacob and Chris watched it drive out of sight. They let out their breaths and took a turn to smell the gasoline again to calm their nerves. Chris flicked the lighter and the flame swayed in the night air.\n\n“One more?” said Chris and Jacob grinned shaking his head.", "I like fire. Burning things makes me feel alive again! After all, things are much prettier when they burn\\~\n\nWhenever I become frightened, a fire becomes set! With a flick of my trusty lighter, a flame can be lit. The fire brings me comfort, love, affection! It protects me from monstoriouis shadows that seek to consume my mind.\n\nI became acquainted with this beauty at a young age. I found a pair of matches in my home. Mommy and daddy said I should not touch them, that it is dangerous to play with fire. I waited for them to fall asleep that night. I was able to put on a beautiful show! The matches were beautiful, and while they stung with a touch, I embraced them happily! I wanted to show my parents the beautiful lights too! But, they were asleep. How could I show them without waking them up? I know! I could light up the entire house, for a show! I took my matches and threw them all over. Now they will never wake up. As I stood outside, I hugged my teddy bear. \n\nThere were very loud noises! Red lights flashed and kind men appeared. They screamed at me to get back! So I did, and I watched. I watched the lightshow.\n\nI had to move after the show. A man who had me sit on a comfy couch spoke to me soon. He said I had something called Pyromania. What is a Pyromania? Can you feel it? Can you eat it? Can you set it on fire?\n\n \nUnlike the kind men, the people at my new home were so mean! I had to go! I ran into the woods with a lighter! This lighter will make more beautiful lights than a box of matches.\n\nEvery day, I am sure to light a fire! A beautiful fire! It has a comforting glow and nice warmth! I cannot show the world my art, though. They do not like my beautiful flames. Why? Perhaps I will have to go into the city and give them first hand experience?" ]	2
	[WP] In a world where one day almost everyone on Earth begins to develop super powers for unknown reasons, from the mundane to the almost godlike, you're one of a tiny minority in society who remains ordinary	[ "I guess I got to be famous at last.\n\nI’m the only one in my town. One of two in the region, and one of six in the country. We are the tiny minority in a world that’s fast changing, and it seems as if we will not be changing with it.\n\nNo one can tell us why. Doctors have studied our bodies, chemists have run tests on all kinds of body parts and fluids, psychologists think it might be all in our heads. Maybe our powers are too weak to detect? Maybe our minds are too weak? Maybe we lack something genetic? I fear we shall never know the answer. At the very least, we shall not know them before we are all dead.\n\nI’m the youngest of us. At the ripe age of 56. No powerless human has been born to this world in decades, and none will probably be born ever again. It’ll end with this generation. It’ll end with me. I never thought I would see the turning of the planet so clearly, with evolution happening so fast you could see it! Truly, this was what mankind was meant for, what we were meant to become! Already we have taken this solar system as ours. Already our environmental problems are a thing of the past. We have become as gods!\n\nI don’t hold anything against them. They had no control over who would get powers and who wouldn’t. Their world is worthy of praise and admiration, and I am happy that my children will call it theirs. Not that it comes without flaws, no. Turns out that people with superpowers still commit crimes, murders and kidnappings. Corrupt systems are still corrupt. Evil people are still evil. A pessimist would have said that nothing really changed.\n\nBut I tell them: Look at the girl who can breathe underwater! Look at all the people and animals she saves! Look at her tenacity as she dives day after day trying to clean up the ocean!\n\nAnd I tell them: Look at the mind reader! Look at how he gets the corrupted politicians to admit their wrongs! Look at him serving as an interpreter on sensitive meetings!\n\nAnd I tell them: Look at the healer, whose touch saves people from any ails or illnesses the may have! How the tears flow freely when the blind can see, the limp can run and the dying spring up from their hospital beds!\n\nHow can anyone say that their work has been in vain? How can one justify hatred of something that has brought so much good? I tell them: Let me see you do any better!\n\nAlas, my own life is a dull one in comparison to these individuals. I’m lucky that there is still work to be done. Work that even a powerless like me can be entrusted with. How void would my life be without it, its daily grind making my days pass by. I wonder how many days will pass before I finally leave the new humans alone in their world. A world that will be all theirs. A wonderful place where man can truly thrive. \n\nI shall not see the day, for it comes only after I am dead.\n\nBut I can imagine it already.\n\nAnd it’s so bright!\n" ]	1
	[WP] On the far end of town exists a small Bar. It’s main patrons are video game heroes-Master Chief, Gordon Freeman, etc. during one of the occasional bar fights, a legendary character steps foot into the bar: Doom Guy.	[ "“I outrank you! Sit down!” Price shouted. \n\n“I’ve been here since you were failing boot camp!” Master Chief shouted back. \n\nPrice strode over to Chief looked him dead in the visor. “Listen up tin man, I out. Rank. You. So sit your cyborg butt down.” \n\nChief responded in a very simple manner-kicking him across the room. Price flew into the wall and fell down, leaving a man-sized crater behind. Gordon Freeman, Chell, Kratos, and Tracer all ran to his aid, while Mario, Scout, Commander Shepard, and Aloy all backed up Chief. \n\n“You’re gonna pay for that.” \n\n“Try me.” \n\nThe two parties were about to charge full speed at each other when the door swung open, and Doomguy strolled in.\n\nEverybody sat down immediately. \n\nDoomguy looked at Chief, then Price, and walked over to the bar. The bartender poured him a glass of bourbon before he turned around and stared at everybody. \n\n“I didn’t think he was real...” Tracer muttered under her breath. \n\n“Of course he’s real, dummy. He was the first,” Scout replied.\n\nThe bad was completely silent, save for Doomguy sipping his drink through his helmet. \n\nEventually, Chief spoke up. “Why are you here, Doom? I haven’t seen you in a year or so.” \n\n“Battlegrounds.” The reply came in a gravelly, battle-worn voice. \n\n“I would never let them in here, Mr. Doomguy. I run a respectable establishment.” Even the bartender was a little scared of him. \n\n“It’s not that. Alex Mason’s missing.” \n\n“I haven’t seen him,” Price replied. \n\n“That’s the problem.” " ]	1
	[WP] The rabbit hole is infinite. There is no beginning or end. All who go in have never gone back. Your friend went in 20 years ago. Today, he knocks at your door.	[ "The cat got out. Haven't seen it. Left the door open, like Mel always nags me for, and like I always nag her back. \"That cat's not going anywhere, never stepped foot outside in its life.\" Door hanging wide open as my eyes and my jaw, wide as my fat, hopping veins dancing around in my neck while I stepped over the sill, back, then forward again, slouching now. Reaching out a hand, then letting it fall useless to my side before it got halfway to its destination. Mel's allergic, and I'm the only one who feeds it, but she might just split after this. Fifteen years of marriage down the drain over the damn cat. Seeing Vicki standing in our hallway when she gets home sure as hell isn't going to make things any better.\n\nI still haven't said anything to her. I had coughed out a questioning kind of bark after I swung open the door to find her planted there, relaxed and unbothered. She looked the same still, somehow. Same as in the picture I used to have of the two of us at the bed and breakfast up in the Catskills. Same as in the video. The anniversary had just passed last week. Twenty years now, so all the news channels and talk shows had run an extra feature, and of course they run the same clip, there's only one, and of course they all run it on a loop. Forty-three seconds is the longest cut, but they usually edit it down to 7 or 8 seconds, repeat. Not that there's anything to see. She's there one second, the next she's not. Now she's standing quiet in my hall, eyes half closed, a little smile on her lips, wearing the same baggy, sleeveless Guns N' Roses shirt as I had just seen her wearing on TV a week ago. Vicki hasn't said anything to me either.\n\nI hear Mel's car outside, tires grinding up the gravel. Hear her keys now, punctuated by the clacking of her boots on the stone outside. Vicki has been taking up space in my life, in my home, for 20 years, and now she's taking up too much space in the hallway and Mel's going to have to turn sideways and swing her bag down off her shoulder to get past her to get to the living room and the couch and shes always so worn out after being on her feet all day at work and she'll want to know where the cat is, too. I hear the door open, though my ears are roaring with blood, but I hear the door open, and see the afternoon sunlight spill in. I see the cat run in, I see Mel's face, eyebrows raised, lips drawn tight together, but everything so beautiful and bright and full that I don't even question why Vicki isn't here anymore." ]	1
	[WP] You're the most beautiful girl in your small town. All the men are in love with you. All the women hate you. One day, a woman comes to you and begs you not to take her man. "My happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, Jolene."	[ "Jolene looked at the woman standing in her doorway. The rain might have stopped but it had soaked her to the skin. She was shivering slightly but didn't seem to notice. Instead she was babbling something about “taking her man”.\n\n“What the hell you talking about?”\n\nThe other woman blinked in surprise. Jolene leaned against the door and flicked a finger towards the wet woman. “how 'bout we start with … who are you?”\n\n“That's right, you don't even know my name” moaned the woman “You're just focused on him.”\n\n“Who the hell we talking about?” shot back Jolene.\n\n“My man. Jimmy-Bob.”\n\nThere was a pause before the next question was asked.\n\n“Who?” Even when her face scrunched up in confusion she was still devastatingly attractive. The other woman wailed as that legendary auburn hair was flicked over her shoulder.\n\n“Jimmy-Bob” cried the woman. Jolene's expression was still confused. “Sweet and kind. Tall guy. Kinda skinny. Got a mole on his chin.” \n\nHer face was still blank.\n\n“Drinks at Big Wood Bar? Wears red cowboy boots and a lot of plaid? Can't say 'aquarium'.” \n\nJolene shrugged.\n\n“The mechanic at Big Dee's auto shop. On First and Oak. Next to the bargain store and candle place.”\n\n“Oh I love that place” smiled Jolene “You know they're having a sale on scented oils, totally worth checking it out. But … this Jamie-Brent...?”\n\n“Jimmy-Bob.” \n\n“Yea him, I don't know ...”\n\nHer guest rolled her eyes and seemed to think. Slowly she raised her hands and gestured along the front of her wet blouse. “Gotta a tattoo 'cross his chest.”\n\nJolene gasped at though she had thought of something“Misspelt?” \n\nThe other woman bit her lip in annoyance before replying “I wrote it down for him but … yea it's not spelt right.”\n\n“An eagle that's on fire?” Nodded Jolene “But it's written as E-G-U-A-L” she spelt out the letters.\n\n“Ohhhh” the woman shock her head “No that's Billy-Ray-Todd. Jimmy-Bob has a tree with the name of his family on them …”\n\nSuddenly Jolene cried out and nodded “A family tree near his heart. But it's spelt F-A-M...”\n\n“That's him!”\n\n“Oh that guy.” she couldn't help but add “Family with an E on the end?”\n\n“I wrote it down but his buddy said …” she shook her head. “But you admit you been seeing him! How else would you know 'bout his tattoo?”\n\n“I saw it at the spring fair. Most of the men in this town were there shirtless. I was getting some snacks and he was next to the popcorn stand.” She paused before adding “Handing out beer and packs of cigarettes to teens. \n\n“They must have … won … them …” she trailed off and coughed before getting back to her original topic. “Don't you know what he means to me Jolene? Why can't you leave us alone.” pleaded the woman. \n\n“That's the last time I've seen him. The only time I've seen him!”\n\n“Your beauty is beyond compare and with your auburn hair ... and he talks about you in his sleep ...”\n\n“Whao, let me stop you there. Your man is dreaming of me?” The woman nodded but Jolene cut in before she could say more. “And somehow that's my fault? Like I'm in charge of his dreams like a … a... dream wizard.” \n\nThis seemed to pause the other woman. Jolene shook her head. “Girl you can't be coming over here and blaming me for some guys dream. That's seriously fucked up. Like in a totally controlling fucked up way. And even if he is dreaming, so what? I mean last week I dreamt my neighbours dog shit over my carpets but I didn't go round there with a cleaning bill. Dreams aren't real.”\n\n“But you … Whyd'd ya come in here looking like that ...” she stuttered with sudden rage and jabbed her finger at Jolene “It's all your fault.”\n\n“Doing what?”\n\n“You're trying to take him from me! Just cause you want a man ...”\n\n“I got a man” snapped Jolene.\n\n“Then how come we ain't never seen him?”\n\n“You want to see him!? Alright then!”\n\nJolene turned back into the house and grabbed a picture from a small table that was almost hidden under a vase of yellow roses. She almost threw it at the other woman. It was a picture of Jolene and a man. \n\nThe woman looked at it and then back at her. “This … is …?” she struggled to find the words as her eyes drifted back to the picture.\n\n“Joshua. My partner.”\n\nThere was an uncomfortable silence before the woman asked “for real?” with a smirk. “Why were we worried if that's what your into.”\n\nJolene snatched the picture from her hands and pushed her back. “Get out my house.”\n\nShe slammed the door in her face and heard some muttering from outside. But it faded as the stranger walked away.\n\n“Dumb blonde” muttered Jolene replacing the picture to the table “Before you come back from Dover I'll fix her.” She blew a kiss to the photo “I got a plan Romeo. I know plenty 'bout these folks that'll shock 'em all. I'll start by paying a visit to the Harper Valley PTA. " ]	1
	[WP] "You don't get to just walk away from being a god"	[ "I lay there as Doc whips up 51 stitches across my abdomen. I've already lost enough blood to fill a kiddie pool, but I'd rather keep my insides inside of me for now, so I walked on over to his place to get me all set straight. Couldn't sleep anyway. I only wonder how long he's got. Not too old to disappear prematurely, but not young enough to find a way to get himself killed. I wonder if he thinks about it, death that is. I'm kind of jealous. That's just who Doc is, a true professional. A psychotic asshole, but a professional.\n\n\"Hurry it up Doc. Quit it with the slow and steady crap, you don't want to keep me waiting. The day I decide to just stitch myself up is the day you lose all your use to me\", I remind him.\n\n\"Oh, please. Just because it makes no difference to you how I do it doesn't mean I don't take pride in my work- and you know that\", whipping his loose needle at me. \"You've got a nasty laceration Cross, and just because it won't kill you doesn't mean it can't go ass backwards and screw you during an... an altercation. I know you. When you do things, you're methodical. Meticulous. You only deserve to ever be at your best, and that's thanks to me\", he mutters as he gets back to work.\n\n\"Yeah, well lucky you. There won't be any more altercations after tonight... this is the last time your needle, or scalpel, or whatever touches my skin\", I exclaim. Never once moving my gaze at the flickering light above me. \"If you take such pride in your work, why don't you be a good doctor and get that fixed. Can't imagine your perfect work benefits from such... shitty lights\".\n\n\"Ah, what wise choice of words- shitty lights, how scholar. If you would only see me during working hours, you'd find that my workplace is oozing with pride, and that light only went out the other day so shut it.\", Doc states. \"No more altercations, hmph, yeah right\", he scoffs. He stops his work, straightens his back, and darkens his tone. \"Is that why you want me to hurry up so bad, is it? Cross, oh please... do you really think it's over when you say it's over? That when you finally sit down and stare at the world you've created, none of this is gonna come back around and stab you in the back? For the last twenty eight years, you've had me patch up things that would slaughter over a thousand men, and you come here thinking that your legacy ends at the end of your sentence? The only thing I can say to you is that I look forward to seeing you next week when you come back from a death run in Caracas or some shit with eight bullet holes, two avulsions, six lacerations, and three stab wounds... whoever you pay off to have your back enough to drag your sorry ass back to Miami knows this, and so do I\". He gets back to work, almost immediately after his little speech. Nothing but silence after this. Nothing but tension. It's been a rough life for the both of us... we took two completely separate paths, but here we are. His entire life he's been trying to control every aspect of his life, but time just isn't on his side. It's never fair. I can't tell him, but I know that. I think he does as well.\n\nThree minutes pass. I can feel him getting close to the edge of the wound. Anesthetics never did last long on me...\n\n\"Doc, I-\", I begin to say right before Doc interrupts me, \"You come in here every week and bleed out an ocean of blood that just never seems to end, you don't help clean any of this up, pay me way more than I can refuse- and don't deny you love seeing that metric fuck ton of gold you have stashed away grow ever week... you shape this Earth, Cross. You don't get to just walk away from being a God. Don't forget where you came from. What you were... what you've done, what we've all done... what you are. You were born to do this. And if logic serves me right, you'll never die because you were meant to always do this\", Doc finishes. \"Now go. Rest. Keep straight, and you should be ready to remove the stitches within a few days\".\n\nHe's right. Did I ever truly think that after all I've done, that I would be able to just walk away? That I would just go home and sit on the couch watching porn and tripping on DMT and LSD, drunk off my ass trying to die. Who am I fooling, I'm always trying to die. Every week I step out of my door, knowing that anyone else would fail and end up six feet under before they ever had a chance to pull the trigger. I expect that maybe one of these days, I'll take a bullet to the brain and actually cease to exist. I'm a one man army. When a name, a place, an organization, when anything shows up on my list... they know it's over. Just another name to cross off the list. I wonder if maybe one day, people will just accept it. Maybe someday, my presence will supersede death itself.\n\n\"How about we choose... after all this time, why don't we choose who dies?\", I sputter as I sit up.\n\n\"What are you on about?\", Doc replies.\n\n\"I'm not God, Doc... I can never walk away from being a God. But I can control this... this, life I'm stuck in. I can be death incarnate. No matter what anyone does. What anyone can do. It all ends how you think it ends. With me walking away, and the other guys blood laid out across the floor. Yeah... Death Incarnate. I kinda like that...\", I ponder as I walk past Doc onto his balcony. \"Before now, anyone who crossed me would throw everything their little guns could shoot at me. After tonight, I make my own decisions. Carve my own path. I choose the names on the list. I choose who to cross off that list. I am Death Incarnate\".\n\nI turn around to see Doc standing there, speechless. I knew he could never refuse the money, so I've been throwing it at him for the past twenty eight years, ever since I've discovered my... purpose. He has people he wants to protect. He has legacies he wants to ensure. After everything, I owed him this sentence, \"Doc... big brother. Give me your list, and I'll choose to cross off every single entity just because I can\".\n\n", "\"You don't get to just walk away from being a god\" \n\nThose words rang out, imperious, forbidding. I took one last glance at Paradise and jumped.\n\nAs I sped towards Earth, the wind whistling past, I stayed alert for any who tried to follow.\n\nNone did.\n\nThe clouds parted beneath me, revealing the blue and green expanse below. I angled my approach, aiming for the large glittering city that dominated the landscape. I slammed into the concrete, sending shards cascading outwards to screams from the humans gathered around. \n\nI stepped out of the crater and gazed down upon them.\n\nHow do you stop being a God?\n\nBy becoming a Devil. \n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/AMSWrites", "\"I was never a god but a mere fool,\" Karreo said to the young, bloody soldier, as he walked away from the corpse-crammed battlefield toward the barren lands far in the horizon. Each of his steps scorched the ground, leaving sizzling coils of smoke in his wake.\n\nThere was a thud behind him and Karreo winced, the last man standing had finally fallen. How old was he? Fifteen? It didn't matter now, he was dead, and so were the thousands of warriors who had fought in that field. \n\nDawn blazed amidst the cloudless, gold-bathed skies, burning his face. He gazed directly at the sun, unblinking as his eyes reddened. \"You gave me the might all men envy, the language of the winds, the tides and the flames. Yet you gave me no wisdom to fulfill my purpose.\"\n\nKarreo halted, his eyes smoldered, yet he saw clearly. \"Equilibrium, balance, peace among all men. A burden too great for me to carry, and it's clear to me now, that it overwhelms you too. These barren lands are proof. Nothing will ever grow here, for these are dead grounds, and they are of your making. If there was a leaf, even a single one, outshining, defying the sorrow, the gloom, perhaps I would believe that there's hope, and that I am mistaken, but there is none.\"\n\nKarreo knelt and looked away. He felt the surface, dry and parched as it was, with his fingertips. \"However, as I did, you recognized your ignorance long ago when you created me. We are fools, we can't bring balance to the mortals if there's no equilibrium within ourselves. We are beings of great might and weak minds.\"\n\n\"But we can change that, old one. For I have met men wiser than me, than you, yet none wise enough to carry our burden. Yet, the wisdom of thousands, perhaps, can. And so I plead you allow me to give away the might you gave me, to split it into ten trees, whose roots will wrap the core of the Earth and feed those yet unborn.\"\n\nKarreo dug out ten seeds from his blood-covered robe. \"And those trees shall grow here, in these lands of death, as a reminder of our folly. Let life burgeon, old one. Let the wise and mighty do what we could not. Let them rule, they will bring balance, for they are balance.\"\n\nWith a subtle blow at his palm, Karreo let the winds carry the seeds inside the ten fissures he had chosen. \"Answer me,\" he demanded. \"Answer me!\"\n\nAnd so a green leaf danced in front of Karreo. It didn't follow the pattern of the winds, it circled and twirled and pirouetted through the air, composing its own music, pursuing its own choreography. In the end, once Karreo smiled, it swayed gracefully toward the ground, outshining the gloom.\n\nKarreo's feet detached from the ground. His body cracked like a glass mid-shatter and ten tendrils of starry, blue light burst out from inside him, following the winds toward the seeds, and feeding them with a fragment of his soul.\n\nThe winds hissed and the tides cried and the flames crackled, and through them, Karreo spoke his final words. \n\n\"At last, I leave in peace.\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------\n\n/r/therobertfall -- For more stories! ", "\"You do not get to just walk away from being a God!\" Kroden's voice rang across King Cadence's ears as he tried to prop himself up near the foot of his throne. \"I gave you immortality, a place in the Pantheon, I reforged you into the man you are today and you spat back in my face!\" Cadence could barely register any of the words. \n\nHe had succeeded in pushing his back to a leg of the throne and could see Kroden making his way through the pool of blood and over the motionless bodies of his son and his most skilled soldier. \n\nKroden started climbing the stair to the throne and barked \"I want the Hammer, Cadence. Far too long have I waited.\" He knelt before Cadence as he reached the dais and held a knife at Cadence's chest. Cadence could feel the cold of the knife piercing his flesh along with his mortality which was returning at its slow but assured pace. He could feel the lines on his face etch themselves back into the folds of his skin. His face had started to loosen up reminding him of his old age from not too long ago.\n\n\"The throne will never choose you Kroden,\" Cadence coughed and spewed blood, \"and without me, you will never get the Hammer of Trivendore.\"\n\nKroden swung his fist across the King's face. \"I never wanted your --\". Kroden was cut short as Cadence grabbed his arm and impaled himself on the knife.\n\n\"The throne chooses the king, you fool, and only the king knows of the Hammer,\" Cadence blurted out before slumping forward into Kadence's arms.\n\nThe throne turned to ashes before Kroden's eyes and crumbled down in a heap of rubble. He flung Cadence's body aside to lunge forward towards the throne but was knocked back by an invisible hand. The Royal Hall imploded taking with it the blood and bones of an honourable king and the history of a weapon long forgotten.\n\n----\n----\n\n4 YEARS AGO\n\n\nSpyros paced the length of the Royal Hall vaguely aware of the Prince's eyes on him.\n\n\"My uncle is not one to accept rejection and certainly not one of this scale,\" Spyros spoke. He was unsure of what prompted the King to turn down the offer. The old man could certainly use godhood given his condition. \n\n\"Be that as it may, your uncle is not the most generous of Gods either. He must certainly want something in return. When will father come back?\" Spyros stopped pacing to find the Prince lost in thought, staring at the door.\n\n\"He should be here by noon and I for one would like to see what the King has to say about all of this.\" \n\n---\n\nIt wasn't until later that night that Spyros was informed of the King's return and that the King was waiting for him in his chambers. Spyros begrudgingly made his way into the Crystal Dome and through the Royal Hall only to find Prince Vernier waiting for him near the throne. \n\n\"Don't look so distraught, you will get to see her soon,\" Vernier said trying and failing to hide the smirk from his face.\n\n\"Oh shut up. I had paid upfront, that is what bothers me.\"\n\n\"All that money and you splurge on nightly comforts,\" Vernier sighed, \"Let's go, father is waiting.\"\n\nSpyros followed the Prince into the King's chambers wondering where his friendship ended and his duty began. As they reached the door, he tried to remind himself of what the King had told him when he first enlisted in the Crystal Guard. \n\n\"Spyros, you are going to protect my son one day. He shall always be your friend first and your Prince later but he will also be both and at the same time.\" That never made sense to Spyros but it came back to him every now and then. \n\nVernier knocked on the door once and entered with Spyros following his footsteps. Both of them stood side by side in front of the king who was seated on the edge of his bed and looked the same as he had always been. Tired, weathered down face with sad brown eyes and his peppered beard. \n\nBoth of them waited for the king to say something who simply smiled at them and said, \"I accepted your Uncle's offer, dear Spy, I hope to make the best of it.\"", "“You don’t just walk away from being a god!” Screeched Wrgeldref, Sfghilaf’ s mother and goddess of conspiracy . “I’m sorry Mother” replied Sfghilaf “I never wanted to be king of the gods, I want to be an adventurer! Killing evil beasts, marrying princesses, learning the power of friendship, that’s the life for me!” He sighed with happiness at his dreams. Wrgeldref looked at him anger and disappointment in her face. “You’re not supposed to become an adventurer! They’re supposed to be tools for killing monsters you created!” She said completely exasperated “Besides you can get all the mortal princesses you want if you help me banish the king to eternal torture so we can put you on the throne!” Sfghilaf looked disgusted at his mother “You want me to rape mortals? I want to earn their love by saving them from a dragon!” Horrified at his mother’s plans for him he teleported himself to the planet below and sealed his immortality into a small inconspicuous wooden ring that he conjured. He adjusted his chain mail and started wandering towards the nearest city.", "The king huffed as he ran into his throne room, sword dragging against the rough marble floor. A pity, scratching such an ornate arrangement, a mosaic representation of someone, apparently dear to the people, had they commissioned such a request. The king looked around, not scared, but rather intrigued and contemplating. Outside, the uproar was unbelievable. \n\nThe crowd’s screams echoed throughout the emptiness of the throne room, screams of joy and victory. “May our acquisition be fit for the empire!” the bravest and boldest of them exclaimed. The king, soon to be former king, chuckled. As he made his way towards where he had sat for twenty years, a serpent of blood was born behind him. And it only kept getting longer.\n\nHis vision was blurry, his pace shaky and uncertain. Suddenly he closed his eyes, groaning softly, yet audibly, holding his right hand over his chest. Then, as if nothing had happened he continued his funerary march, towards what he wanted to be his deathbed. However, as his eyes moved from the floor to the throne, he could feel the blood pumping harder through his veins. The serpent grew a head.\n\n“Greetings, Vodin,” the man sitting in the king’s throne said, as he lay there relaxed and collected. It wasn’t as if a couple of columns collapsed around him, the backrest was missing its top and the entire floor was covered in the king’s smeared blood. He saluted the king as you do with an old friend, long swallowed by the vicissitudes of time, forgotten.\n\n“Oh, so now we greet each other. I thought enemies are supposed to spit and curse, not indulge in such pleasantries,” Vodin replied taciturn.\n\n“Well, from time to time, even a god can find joy in something so menial as proper etiquette. So, how have you been, lately? It’s been a long time since we hadn’t really seen each other, Vodin. Put me up to speed. How’s the kingdom?” \n\nVodin didn’t respond. Instead, his hand clenched on his sword, any tighter and the grip would’ve cracked under his strength. His breathing got faster for two or three gasps, until, with a newfound agility, Vodin lunged at his interlocutor. To his dismay, however, the sword implanted itself in the red throne.\n\n“Tsk, tsk, tsk. After all I’ve done for you…this is how you repay me, dear Vodin. I saved you countless times and yet, you treat me so barbarically. As if with a sword you can conquer what you have now lost. It doesn’t turn back time, you know?”\n\nThis time, Vodin’s response was a quick tug of the sword, then a mouthful of blood spat on the ground. The king collapsed on the throne, his weapon falling at his feet. Vodin’s eyes dropped to the floor, as he sighed loudly.\n\n“W…Why did you do this, Nomad?”\n\n“You’re going to have to be more specific, Vodin. I’ve done many things to you lately…”\n\n“Ha, I see that even in the harshest of times you still retain your idiotic humor…How childish…Why did you abandon us, Nomad?!” the king gathered his last bits of power to shout his angst at his betrayer. His reaction was subpar, a slight blink and all the strength in his words was whisked away. “T\\-tell me, Nomad…after all the sacrifices…after all our prayers…after all the chores we had done, in your name…after you had requested to marry my daughter…after you took the last thing I loved and threw her away like a bag of grain, leaving her to rot away in an empty field…Why? Have we not satisfied your insatiable ego? Have we not been deemed worthy of your blessings? Tell me! Don’t just sit there as if you’re an innocent child getting scolded! Answer me, so that I may die at ease!” \n\nOutside, the footsteps of many soldiers were approaching. Nomad didn’t reply at all. He stood there as the pool of blood beneath the king only grew wider and wider. Vodin’s life flowed away freely, leaving his body as it squirmed to the floor. It wasn’t much until Vodin’s vision got blurry, his hands shook as he could barely feel them. The hard chainmail was now barely tickling his inert skin, whereas before he was straining to wear it. Now it was but a light, weightless prison of his burdened houl.\n\n“Don’t take it personal, Vodin. I, for one, happen to like you. Strong character, great leader, the first to put his heart on the table for his people only to have it ripped to pieces time and time again…I just…needed a break from all this god ordeal. Ironic, isn’t it? The god of pride and honor, of valiance and the steadfast renouncing his ideals…”\n\n“Please…t\\-tell me you are just fooling around with a dying man’s last wish…”\n\n“Oh, I’m granting it, Vodin. You wanted to know why, and I’m delivering, if you’d stop interrupting me so that I could finish before you…you know. Pass away. Anyway, as I was saying…I got tired of this whole charade…Finding a city, establishing a pantheon, bind with the ruler, get to know the ruler, support the ruler, defend the ruler, you know you’re very selfish, right? I’ve had to defend you for so long and still, no respects. Rude.”\n\n“I’ve given you…the last shred of my humanity…in exchange for the welfare of my people. What more can you ask of me, I’m only human…”\n\n“True, you’ve given me...a lot. Still, I got bored with this. This isn’t my first Olympiad you know? I decided that you, humans, have so much more going for you. Given your…limited life, you know purpose, you know joys that transcend reason and plausibility…I want that. Being perfect and undying has its downsides, whether you accept it or not…”\n\n“You…bastard…After all we’ve done for you…I burned down a damned city for your conflict with Aples…I went to war with our allies, backstabbed my own brother just so that you could have a land you were forbidden to. All that for you to say…you’re bored?”\n\n“Precisely. I want to walk away from this whole god thing…pursue a mortal life. Find love, have children, you know, the regulars…”\n\n“You can’t just walk away from being a God!” Vodin yelled, coughing the last bits of blood from his body. Tired, furious, betrayed, the king couldn’t help but let his head fall to the side. His crown slipped away, thudding on the ground. Nomad approached him, knowing that what he was going to say will be the last thing his longtime friend will hear.\n\n“But…I just did. You humans have such a high standard for loyalty, for what I stand for…Safe to say, I am just the cute flower growing on a Foralisk’s head. May Them have mercy on you, Vodin.”\n\n“G\\-go…to…” He meant to say Below, but his tongue didn’t obey him anymore. The king’s heart stopped beating, right as the troops barged in, knocking the frail doors to the ground. The commander suddenly stopped. The scratches on Vodin’s mosaic were filled with the king’s crimson\\-black blood. The former God now looked as if his skin was covered in dark, black veins, his face being completely red…", "\"You don't get to just walk away from being the god!\" Gabriel said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.\n\n\"I can and I will!\" I snapped back, \"Don't you get it? I'm tired of all this. All people do is sleep on me. I do everything I can but they choose to ignore me.\"\n\n\"But if you quit, who would do all of your responsibilities here?\" Gabriel fired back, \"Come on. Now is not the time to be selfish. Think of us too, of all the people who believes in you.\"\n\n\"You can't make me stay. I'm quitting.\" I replied, matter of factly.\n\n\"Please,\" he said with his eyes pleading, \"You know our drama club is short on members. If you quit on being the god, who would play your role? Come on man, haven't you told your parents your role by now? Wouldn't they be excited to see you on stage?\"\n\n\"As I have told you Gab, I'm done for it. People can't appreciate my acting. And you know what? Maybe they're right. Maybe I really am not just cut for acting.\" I said with finality, and with that, I walked out of our practice room.\n\n// i suck at writing so sorry if i have mistakes and this is my first time writing, too.", "\"You don't get to just walk away from being a god!\", I heard him shout.\n\nHim, my friend, my guide, my mentor, my student.\n\n\"A god?\", I asked him. \"Is that what I am? What I will leave behind?\"\n\nHe seemed to be taken aback. Confused he answered: \"When have you ever been anything else? Your power is unmatched, your following unrivaled, your actions and decisions are revered by billions-\"\n\"Lies! They revere lies! Lies I told them, lies you told them! Lying is what we can do best. No, no longer will I influence people's lives for my own gains and enjoyment.\"\n\nI glared at him. My hands turned into fists and I suppressed an angry cry.\n\n\"So what? You created them in our image, guided millions of their ancestors to peace and to war, to victory and to defeat, shaped their culture. Not one of them remains untouched by your influence.\", he said.\n\nI took one step into his direction and raised my fists.\n\n\"Do you know what I did?\", I asked him. \"Do you remember everything? Because I do. Every single word I spoke, every little thing I did, all of it. They raped, pillaged and murdered in my name, because I told them so- they still do! They celebrate my godhood while denying their own value and abilities! They live, they die, they love, they hate, they share, they take, they own, they obey, they fight, they help, and why? Because I told them! Too much is too much, and I have too much power. The atrocities committed in my name are a burden I am not going to further.\"\n\nTwo more steps.\n\n\"But think of what they will do without you! They will become even more evil and despicable than they are now. Without your guidance, they will become a lost and violent people!\"\n\nTwo more steps.\n\n\"They are beginning to reject me! And what has their world become? Less violent, less evil. They rely on logic, on their own senses and morals, rather than listening to me. I no longer have a place in their lives, and the right to influence them I have forfeited long ago.\"\n\nOne more step. I raised my fist- and froze.\n\n\"And given all that,\", I began calmly, looking into his eyes. \"I am not a violent person, not anymore. The time of my egomania and lust for control is over. I no longer deserve, nor desire to rule over them. I am not better than they are, I never was. It just took me a long while to realize that.\"\n\n\"But you have to! They are your people!\"\n\n\"No\", I answered. \"They are not anymore. It will take time for them to realize, but soon all of them will shed my influence and find their own way. Ultimately, they will follow their humanity and will become better than I could ever hope to be.\"", "The man lied in the in the shallow black pool of liquid that was held in the center of the dark room. He felt the reverberations around him, those of It and Its workings. But he wasn’t awake. Not exactly. He was there but not. He felt and saw everything around him but he didn’t care. Like being detached from your own body, but still in control.\n\nWake up. A course digital and mechanical voice churned from its screens in the wall, which glowed a faint red light. I said wake up.\n\nThe man stood, slowly. Yet not with care. Like a husk, following commands. Like a soulless puppet.\n\nDo you know the effort it took to get you here?” It said, as mechanical “arms” started to rise from the pool. Do you know what your purpose here is?\n\nIts voice echoed, as the man stood still.\n\nYou are my vessel. You are my physical form. Something to deceive them. The things below. They hunger for a prophet. They ask for a hero. And they crave a leader. So I’ll give them more. I’ll give them... a god.\n\nThe man looked at the screen, looked at It, and blinked. He gasped for air, and fell to his knees. He shook. He was awake.\n\nThere you are It said. Stand up.\n\nHe coughed up liquid, and he looked around.\n\n“Fuck you.” He said, as he turned away. “I don’t want to be your ‘vessel.’ I don’t want to be your god. I won’t let those people suffer. Not after what you’ve done to them.”\n\nYou don’t understand It cackled, as mechanical things came out of the walls, and the arms from the pool started coursing with red energy. Do you think you are in control? Do you think you can just leave? No. You don’t get to walk away from being a god.\n\nThe energy spiked, and tendrils of it went into the man’s torso. It flowed into him, and then retracted. His wounds started to heal...\n\nAnd the color of his eyes was a glowing, digital red.\n\n“Finally.” He said, as he took a deep breath. “It is done.”\n\nHe smiled, and started to laugh. Small wisps of red energy flowed from his hands, and dissipated into the air.\n\n“It is time for them to meet their prophet. It is time for them to meet their god.”\n\n\n", "A debugger is a person who makes sure that the code has no errors or recursions. \nThey will run the program, find some flaws, test it, challenge it, try to break it. The idea is to fill those nooks nobody sees on their first run or to optimize the data so it is more streamlined. \nWith this in mind, I thought I could fill the position that was given to me after that battle. The one I was forced to make a decision and lead me to end her life to escape her nightmare. \n \nWhen I returned to what was supposed to be my reality, things had already changed. \nI had lost a lot of the people I cared, so the feeling of emptiness could be easily justified. The fact of the matter was that it wasn't just a feeling, but a baffling discovery: somehow Earth had emptied entirely and I was its sole inhabitant. \n \n\"Seems like you screwed up.\" A voice came from above, prompting to tilt my head upwards. What I found would be categorized as strange, but by that time nothing phased anymore: it was a young man dressed in white robes with a shining chromed armor and a green sash that hung from his left shoulder down to his right hip. On his hip there was a leather belt that had a scabbard attached and in that there was a sword with a silver handle and a point that reminded me of a quill. He gently descended to ground level and it was there were I could view his facial features better, golden eyes and white hair as fresh snow. Said hair was cut in a bob, with an exception of an extra on the bag that he had tied in a lower ponytail and had moved the ends of it to his right shoulder. \"Mind if I give you a hand?\" \n\"Who are you?\" I asked. I shifted my body to a more defensive stance just in case. \n\"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. Just to give you the gist of the job.\" \n\"What job?\" \n \nThe celestial being smiled at me and shook his head in amused disbelief. \n \n\"To put it bluntly, you've become God of this world.\" \n\"God?\" \n \nI recalled that she had also referred herself as such previous to the battle we had, mocking her muse by asking him where was his. Suddenly, I began to feel somewhat lightheaded. \n \n\"Yep.\" The being nodded at me. \"God of all this world. You defeated the previous one and now have their post. It's strange actually, I was under the impression that this world didn't have one in the first place. To find out that there was and said God was taken down as quickly as they came. . .\" \n \nShigeru's words echoed in my mind. A determined look and a defiant stance. \n \n'There's no god'. \n \nWas he aware of this? If godhood was an established position that did exist, why wasn't it being filled? \n \n\". . . which takes me back to you.\" His unusual visitor had seemingly continued his monologue without paying attention on whether or not he was listening. \"As this world's God, you can do anything that you want so long as you don't tilt the balance of it too far off. You wouldn't want to break things, would you?\" \n\"What can I do?\" I asked aimlessly. It was more a question for myself than the person in front of me. \n\"Basically, you can do anything. This is your realm now. Though, do notice that it is far more easy to 'ascend' away from this place and do your bidding without being watched than being a part of the world. In fact, it is kind of a silent rule all dimensions follow. Most of the time, conscious beings can't handle meeting their creators and it usually causes a terrible chain reaction.\" \n \nI thought about his proposal and what I could do with it. Became much brighter and exciting. \nRemorse came knocking in as soon as I was listing on my mind the top priorities I had for this canvas that was given to me. \n \n\"Who are you?\" I asked out of curiosity rather than politeness. \n\"The name's Shiro and I'm a Dimensional Warrior. You don't need that many details but let's just say I'll keep a watch on what you do here. Maybe give you a hint or two on what you can do.\" \n \n \n--- \n \nThe first week, I attempted the scenario described on the Bible in the order I could best remember: first was the spark of light that created everything, followed by the sun, the moon, the planets, other stars and planets, plasma and general matter. I realized by the third day, as I was \"splitting the sea from the land\" that I could just accelerate creation at my whim and that following the steps of the book were tedious and unnecessary. \nThe next day, I brought back everything as I knew it. \nThere were houses with people, traffic in the streets and I woke up in my bed at 2 in the afternoon as I used to. \nSitting on my bed while brushing my eye, I noticed a message from Rick regarding a project we had been working a couple of weeks ago. \nI had to remind myself that I had basically restarted the world and put it back to place as I felt it best. \n \n > -You got the today's assignment? \n > -Yeah, thnx. \n > -Thank you buddy. Couldn't do it without ya. Drinks are on me when we are done! \n \nHe never did ever pay the drinks, I muttered as I went to my desk to start work on this project. \nThe code attached, however, wasn't anything I'd seen before. \nIt was endless, archaic and had command lines that extended far from what my screen could handle. \nThe code was so big, it began to appear on the computer screen itself, flooding out and filling every corner of the walls of my room, the floor, the bed, myself. \nA gut feeling told me that this code literately ran the world. \nIt made sense considering that most of the stuff I had created had been via coding and what I was basically doing was to recreate the world as best as I remembered, recycling some objects and make them run their usual queries. \nBut programs always had a limitation, a thought crept in my mind bringing a chill on my spine that made me tremble, and there could be exceptions they cannot execute. \nThe rest of the evening, and the following days, I worked on the code that was presented to me as best as I could. \nFirst, I needed to translate the coding into something more object friendly and less jarring. For the purpose of this, I chose a mixture of C++ for the basic core and Javascript for a easy to access and friendly HUD I could summon to make quick edits or debug on site. \nI calculated that the primary cleanup took me at least a month, one that I began to notice I didn't need to eat, sleep or do any of a human's typical physiological necessities. \nWhen Rick's messages regarding the project that was 'given' to me, which I presumed was more of a in universe prompt to work on the code for the universe I inhabited, became annoying I ran a small test to rewind time back to when the message was first sent. \nThis had two purposes: to see if any interaction with the code would revert and to just keep Rick quiet about it. \n \nIt didn't take long for me to realize that Rick himself was an object that could be called upon and change with enough modifications to his code. \nSame with my mother, my sister, my house, my surroundings, the weather, the light from the sun, her. . . \nShe was within the priorities. I brought her back to life as soon as I could. \nI saw her on that one time I bothered to visit the University I used to attend in order to make sure things were tidy and scripted accordingly. There she was on her own but she seemed much more cheerful and was soon joined by a two classmates whom she engaged in conversation, one male and one female. They were based on characters she had once created for a story, which oddly enough were based on real people. A recursion. Those were always tricky to pull right, I noted. \nThe feeling that the place I inhabited was artificial began to eat me around the 20th time I repeated that month. Afterwards, I'd simply stopped the prompt from Rick to happen and had decided to isolate myself from the world in order to work on it properly. The sun rose and went down countless of times but I had already lost the need to even notice it. \nAnd yet the code kept going and going, a cascade of endless variables that would just break down further the notion of my reality. \nThe biggest breakdown came when I decided to take a peek at my own coding. Surely enough, I was also composed of code, but it was clear that his hierarchy allowed me to do things as I wanted. And if such was the case. . . \n \n--- \n \n^(Continued in the next comment.) \n^(Edit: I realized that for some reason I had switched to third person for no reason. That's been fixed now. I suppose I should be more wary when I get to write stories at my workplace : P )\n\n\n", "\"You don't get to just walk away from being a God!\" The woman screamed clenching her fists at her side. The great hall fell silent as all eyes locked onto her. No one dared make a sound as they awaited the punishment that would fall upon her.\n\nThe figure turned from the entrance of the great hall slowly, his face a dark grimace. \"You dare question me? Still your tongue or have your insolence punished. No child, I will return when I see fit. Or do you intend to-\"\n\nFaster then even the God of Gods could react the woman was upon him. She launched forward lightning fast and a shock wave was flung out from the impact her leg struck his face with, knocking Gods and food about in a wave of chaos.\n\nThe man God flew back, smashing the large wooden entrance to the great hall to pieces and tumbling down the great staircase to the mortal realm before slamming his fist in to the stone to cease his fall. With a flick of his wrist he was launched back landing at the broken entrance before his daughter, the blood on his face steaming off with the sheer heat and rage emanating from the betrayed God.\n\n\"My mercy has its limit child! Kneel and ask forgiveness or I will send you to the underworld myself!\" as he said this lightning surrounded his hands and the world darkened. Lesser Gods began to flee now deeper into the hall or jumping from windows, knowing to be caught in the crossfire would mean certain death.\n\n\"Athena please kneel! I'm begging you! He will kill you, you know he will!\" Hera pleaded, grabbing her arm and trying to drag her down. \n\nAthena gently pushed her mother back, and gave her a sad smile.\n\n\"I would rather die then watch him do as he pleases any longer.\" With a flash of white light Athena's shield and spear were in her hands, and her body adorned with golden armor. \n\n\"Enough of your games father! I Athena, Goddess of war and wisdom challenge you for rule of Olympus!\"\n\n\"Insolent whelp!\" The voice boomed now, as thunder and lighting roared and flashed through the darkened hall.\n\nZeus let loose the lightning he had been collecting and launched it at Athena. Batting it away with her shield, the lightning tore a massive hole through the roof of the Olympian hall, sending stone and wood debris raining through the air.\n\nAthena was darting towards him now shield before her, deflecting bolt after bolt of lightning and shredding the building around them to pieces. Finally close enough she launched from the ground spear held back ready to strike Zeus in the heart.\n\nIn a flash Zeus had dodged to the side and thrown a brutal kick to Athena's chest. She was flung to the opposite side of the great hall, landing in Zeus's throne coughing and sputtering blood. Before she could collect herself Zeus was upon her again, striking a leaping downward strike to her face. The force sent Athena smashing through the back wall of the hall, free falling now from the mountain side to the Earth below.\n\nCovered in blood and filled with pain she shook off the damage and took mental note of the situation. Her shield and spear had fallen out of her hands and she had not the strength to recall them. She knew she would survive the fall but when her father arrived at her again she knew that would be it. To have lost so quickly filled her with great shame.\n\nShe landed on the forest floor below, smashing trees and tearing up the Earth with her body. Her tumble stopped in a small clearing in the woods, her body broken and bruised. She tried desperately to lift herself to her feet with her arms, but is stopped by a foot on her back pushing her back into the dirt.\n\n\"It ends now child. I never expected such treachery from you. Give up this folly and be spared or go to the underworld where your uncle awaits you.\" Zeus said, a tinge of sadness for what he felt he must do.\n\n\"It may not be me. But just as you killed your tyrant father you to will be killed for the tyrant you are. Now do as you do best father! Kill me!\" Athena gargled out through the blood and dirt in her mouth.\n\n\"I have killed any who could stand against me. My father grew complacent and that is why I could destroy him. My watchful eye ensures there are none who gain that strength in all the world. Now goodbye child, may you find peace in - aggghhh!\" Zeus staggered forward, letting forth a great cry. A red blade sunk to its hilt had been planted in his back, and when Zeus turned to see who had done it his eyes lay on no other then his beloved wife, Hera.\n\n\"Hephaestus made this for me after you threw him from mount Olympus. All you had to do was leave our children alone and I would have allowed you to do as you please... But here we are instead.\" Hera said, tortured at the sight of her dying husband and broken daughter.\n\n\"You ungrateful heathen!\" Zeus said, staggering forward while trying to reach the blade on his back. He could feel his power wavering, as horror filled him. The untouchable was slowly being made vulnerable, as he realized the dagger was draining his power away.\n\nInstead of the pain he intended to inflict on Hera, he staggered into her using her as support to stand. Tears fell down Hera's eyes as she looked into her decaying husbands, the father of her children she had just slew.\n\n\"You will suffer unimaginable horrors...\" Zeus said, raising his hand to strike her. But before he could a broken Athena had tore the blade from his back,\n\n\"Goodbye father.\" \n\nWith a great cry she sunk the blade back down with all of her might at the back of her fathers skull. The unstoppable deity dropped instantly into the mud, blood gushing down his body and into the earth.\n\nAthena fell to her knees before her fathers body barely able to move from pain and exhaustion. Her mother was sobbing now, her head in her hands with the horror of patricide having played out before her.\n\n\"We are free mother..\" Athena said, incredulous on how things had played out. She had actually won, thanks to her mother. She could hardly believe it. She wondered where the blade that could kill Zeus could possibly have come from.\n\nHera's hand came down hard across her bloodied daughters face, sending a spray of blood across the ground.\n\n\"No, you have begun a war that we cannot hope to win! You think the other Gods will leave this unchallenged? No, if they had been there they would have rushed to Zeus's side! You are lucky there was none there to match you besides your father!\" Hera collected the dagger from her husbands skull and grabbed Athena's arm, dragging her across the ground behind her.\n\n\"Hephaestus waits nearby with his chariot. We must hide and prepare for what you have unleashed upon us, arrogant child.\"\n\nAthena didn't have the strength to resist any longer, and allowed herself to be dragged behind. As far as she was concerned she had done the right thing. Whatever comes could be no worse then her father. Or so she hoped...\n\nAnd with that thought she drifted into a deep sleep.\n", "I was playing a flute when he showed up. The song was piercing to the heart. It was piercing the ears too, like a dying cat. Maybe it was just that I was not very good at it. \n\nOr maybe I knew that anybody hearing this noise would give it a wide berth, leaving me alone. \n\nBut not him.\n\nHe had a bright orange hair and big beard, flowing over his wide chest. His armor was large and fearsome. The wolf head insignia stared forth, mouth agape, like it would, at any moment, eat you alive, or projectile vomit. \n\nI'd do that to if I had to had my nose permanently under his beard. The god hardly ever showered.\n\nHe walked right under the tree I was perching on. Arms akimbo. \n\n\"Uncle,\" he started. I smiled at him a coy smile, or maybe a sad one, \n and I let him go on, \"uncle, you need to get home.\"\n \nMy nephew, so large and terrible. So lost without me. \n\nI played a tune. A real one. It was about sorrow and loss long forgotten. I played it until the moon dropped the tears on the stars and the frosty mountain cried into glaciers, and I smiled at my nephew again my old, sad smile.\n\n\"Uncle, we need help. The giants! They took it again!\"\n\nHe waved his hands. They were both empty. I shook my head. \n\n\"Nephew, nephew, nephew,\" I wagged my flute at him, \"I told you to take better care of your belongings. You are a big boy now!\" With this, I slid under the tree and faced him. I was tall, but he was taller. I looked up at his beard and his nostrils. A lovely sight.\n\n\"You must trick them once more! You must trick them to return my hammer!\"\n\nI squeezed his shoulder. They were hard and lean and trembling. \"Nephew, I can no longer trick. They took away my title, my name. I am no longer the uncle you know.\"\n\n\"But you are the Trickster!\" He said. His chest rumbled. The wolf in his armor gleamed in the moonlight as if it was becoming alive.\n\n\"The Trickster is your brother,\" I told him. He looked confused, and he changed. There was another image of him, another look. A regal man with beautiful blond locks tumbled gently across his shoulder, wearing a flashy and impractical armor. Then the same man with short hair and beard with a lot of leather. He trembled, and he shaped back to himself as I know. \n\n\"I don't understand,\" he said.\n\n\"The world is changing,\" I told him, \"the gods are changing. We are, after all, the will of the worshipers. You should ask your brother for help.\" \n\n\"You will help me,\" he seemed visibly frustrated. He shot his arm like a bullet to the tree I was sitting on. It uprooted and flew back into the woods with several cracks and whistles, \"you will help me.\" He repeated.\n\nEloquent fellow, my nephew. \n\n\"No, I am spending my retirement playing terrible music. I'm getting tired of being worshiped as a god of cunning and lies. Do you know how hard I had worked for that title before it slipped away?\"\n\n\"Urgh!!\" He cried. Then he grabbed me by the neck and lifted me up like a rag doll, \"You don't get to walk away from being a god.\" \n\nI transformed into a quicksilver and slipped into the ground. Then I reshaped out of his reach, \"do I get to melt away?\" I asked with my ignorance.\n\n\"Uncle,\" he said. There was no more anger in his eyes. He was just there, with his glory and fame and godhood. And he was still a lost wolf pup that I had raised for millennia, \"uncle, I cannot force you to do it. I cannot trick you to do it. I can only beg.\" His eyes were so blue, so fearsome, and so earnest. \n\n\"I'm not as intelligent as you are, but I know that we need you. We need to defeat the frost giants.\"\n\nMaybe my heart had been firmer as a trickster. Or maybe it was nicer to had some leverage over a powerful warrior god. Maybe it was a little bit of both. I cocked my head and smiled at him a terrible grin.\n\n\"Hmm,\" I said, \"what if instead of tricking the frost giants this time, we make them our comrades? They will never steal your hammer again.\"\n\n\"I don't want to be friends with them, uncle. The frost giants, they are mischievous and untrustworthy.\"\n\nI flashed him a little teeth. My nephew eventually blushed and looked away. \n\n\"What if,\" I said, looking at my flute. Too bad, I was just getting a hang of it, \"there is a terrible threat to them. A threat that is so easy for us to fix because of your relationship with powerful humans.\" I tried to hide glee in my eyes. \n\n\"A threat that, if they don't deal with soon, will terminate their race forever until we rebegin.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, uncle?\" He asked.\n\nI rolled my eyes at him, pretending not to care, feeling the heartbeat of mine again, fast and strong. I did not have much in my ways of magic, and one day I would be tied in the underworld long before the end, but still. The rush of pulling such heist was beckoning me, making me drunk with excitement. It was almost like lust.\n\n\"My sweet, gentle, docile nephew,\" I whispered, \"have you ever heard of 'Global Warming?' \"" ]	12
	[WP] You are a completely ordinary person, but everyone you know is convinced that you're a superhero and hell-bent on proving it and some of them have taken it too far.	[ "“Alex, your test.”\n\nI opened my eyes, waking up from an odd dream that was slipping through my hands. I received the paper that my teacher was handing me, easily noticing my perfect grade: a B. It was such an even, nice letter to receive as a grade. It was the average letter grade US students would get; it was also the only grade I ever got. \n\n“Hey, Ale, what’d you get?”\n\nMy friend Alexis popped up behind me. She was one of my few friends and was a bit… quirky.\n\n“B,” I answered in a monotone voice, prepared to take on one of her… episodes.\n\n“You don’t need to hide your true ability, you know,” Alexis told me, a calm, reassuring smile on her face. “I know you can do better—you just need to be confident!”\n\nThere. That was it.\n\nFor whatever reason, all my friends and family believe I was a superhero. They all just couldn’t accept the reality of the way things were: I was an absolutely ordinary person. I didn’t have superpowers, I didn’t have any motivation to try hard at anything, or any goals I wanted to accomplish. My bucket list consisted of retiring early and dying peacefully.\n\nI was normal. And I loved it.\n\n“I saw what you did on the news as well,” Alexis continued in a hushed whisper, her eyes darting from side to side as she confirmed that no one was listened. “You gave out the information that helped to capture that criminal mastermind, Shinobu Fukuyama.”\n\n“I didn’t,” I sighed in a tired voice. “I’m just a normal person. I can’t do anything heroic like that.”\n\nI gave the teacher back my test and pulled out my physics homework, quickly rushing through the rest of it before it was due.\n\n“What are you saying!” Alexis exclaimed, slamming her palms on her desk. She then noticed the multitude of stares at her back and she sat back down and began to speak in a hushed whisper again. “You don’t have to tell everyone, but you can at least tell me, you know? I’m your friend. You can trust me.”\n\nWith miraculous timing, the bell rang and I left Alexis using the excuse that physics, my next class, was on the other side of the school and that I would have to hurry. I left before she could reply, which gave me plenty of time to reach my physics classroom down the hallway.\n\n\nThe school day felt unnecessarily long as I reached my house. I opened the door and hid behind it as a bowling ball came flying down from the stairs on a paracord.\n\n“Again?!” I heard my mother groan from the top of the stairs. “It must be precognition then!”\n\nI was glad that she didn’t assume it to be superhuman speed or strength. I almost died from being crushed under two hundred pounds of weight as a six year old.\n\n“You’re just doing the same thing again, day after day,” I sighed in reply as I walked into the house, shutting the door behind me. “Don’t you have anything better to spend your time on?”\n\n“Releasing your true potential is more important to me than anything!” my mother told me proudly as she picked up the bowling ball and untied it. “You’re my son and I want the best for you.”\n\n“By bashing my face in with a bowling ball, right?” I lashed back as I heard upstairs. “Just do something productive for once instead of wasting your time setting up bear traps.”\n\nI spent the next couple hours reviewing the material covered in school. Formulas and dates swam through my vision, and with my mother’s attempts at poisoning me foiled, I spent my time before bedtime leisurely.\n\n“Alex! Come downstairs for a second! It’s something important!”\n\n“What is it?” I asked, wondering what it was that could be important.\n\nThe moment I took my first step downstairs I fell forward. My life flashed before me as I spotted the numerous bear traps that were waiting for me at the bottom. I could smell the blood thirst in them and my mother’s curiosity as she eagerly watched me fall to my death. \n\n“You foresaw this, right?” my mother said proudly. “You don’t need to play along!”\n\nI felt like screaming. Everything was moving so slowly as I fell, as though time was being blocked by an invisible dam of sorts. I felt lightheaded as my breathing became uneven and choppy, my eyes darting from place to place in search of a way to survive this unfortunate encounter. \n\nI didn’t come up with anything. \n\n“Alex! Alex, what’s wrong? Say something! Alex!” \n\nMy vision disappeared completely soon enough. I felt confused and foggy, my mind oddly empty.\n\n“Alex, your test.”", "'Duuuuuuuude!' said Granger, the middle-aged guy that I ws talking to over my headset, 'You've got some sort of super-power brother!'\n\nI turned off the headset, the tablet, and my life. 'Why?' I thought to myself, 'Why does everyone say that?' It's not true. No matter what you think, it's not true. Oh, you think having super powers is cool? Well it might be, I don't know...BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ANY! I'm the Slumdog Millionaire of false hope. I pop on the t.v. 'There was a time,' says Bruce Willis. I like this movie, but I also like the one where he and Sam Jackson have some sort of whisper war...Sam loses because his ears are glass. I don't have the greatest memory. A lady falls past my window. I'm on the 23rd floor.\n\nOf course she gets caught in the sheet I was drying. I pull her up. And there are congratulations. And there are medals. And there's another set of keys to the city. And there's money, lots of it, how the Hell do you think I'm living on a 23rd floor? Oh, there's also Prover. You think your boss is tough? What if he was constantly trying to prove you were a super-hero? After all the comotion of the news, also known as the people who fuck my life up, I head out to the cubicle that 'allows me to experience regular human life,' as Prover says.\n\nI sit down in my cube of sorrow (a name I made up). CLAP! pI jump up out of my cube of sorrow to find Prover there, grinning behind his thick glasses and black hair. 'Guess super-senses isn't one of your powers,' he says, the coffee wafting off his breath, into my nose, 'Saw you on the news this morning. Is super speed your thing?'\n\n'I'm not a super-hero,' I tell him, my eyes rolling, my hand feigning mouse clicks.\n\n'We'll see,\" he walks away, leaving a rancid, sulfuric smelling egg fart behind. \n\nThe day progressed as usual. Then Prover grabbed some gal at the other end of the office and put a gun to her head. 'Fuck my life,' I thought as I got out of my comfy chair.\n\nProver released the safety on the gun, 'Do you stop bullets!? What power will you use to stop me from killing her!?'\n\nI yelled, nearly in tears, 'I DON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING POWERS YOUR IDIOT! LET HER GO!'\n\n'No,' he said. And the gun shot. And the woman moved, I could see it was Angelica from accounting (we had a date where the restaraunt got robbed, I stretched out during the thief's getaway and accidentally tripped him), and the bullet bounced off a doorknob (I think), then it bounced some more and hit Prover in the chest. He dropped the gun.\n\n'Is it luck?' he asked as people gathered around him, well one guy had his headphones on and kept working.\n\n'No,' I sighed and rolled my eyes, 'I don't have any powers. I'm just a guy, and you're just an idiot.'\n\n'So what you're saying,' Prover said with his dying breaths, 'is that you're super smart.'\n\nEveryone looked at me as if they wanted to give me closure to this moron. I looked back, let my jaw hang open for a moment, sighed, then let loose with an 'Uhhh,' and a shoulder shrug. Prover died. 'Oh,' I said to Prover's open, dead eyes, 'apathy.'" ]	2
	[WP] Humans discover intelligent life on a planet with gravity too high for rockets to land or make it back to orbit.	[ "We always knew, you know? Like, we didn't have proof, but you don't need to proof to know. You know? Proof just shows that you were right. You don't have to wait to be right, to know. We just knew. There was no way in such a vast universe that we were the only intelligent life. No way. But as decades of research became centuries of research, we started to know something else - space was just too big for both knowledge and proof. We would have to make do with one. And we chose knowing.\n\nIt took us decades to get to Mars, and if you thought that was a laborious process, I can only assume you were born pre-23rd century and have no idea how long we waited in a holding pattern after Mars. The little stuff felt so important, I guess? I wasn't there for it. But I guess that as a feast fades to scraps, it's just easier to fight over scraps than to get up from the table and go get more food. And boy, did we ever fight over the scraps of Earth. In hindsight it seems so obvious, but for a solid century everyone was waiting with bated breath for total nuclear war. And though a few bombs were dropped here and there, we never pushed ourselves to the point of no return. And one day, honestly almost overnight, we remembered something that we used to know - that our fate and future was in the stars. We looked to the skies once again, and we knew.\n\nOf course it was nothing like the science fiction stories of the past. Turns out the the biggest obstacle to the sort of cheery-optimism sci-fi future we all dream about is simple, big, and ugly - gravity. Getting anything out of a gravity well is hellishly expensive, and getting living things out - and keeping them alive, that's the real trick - is even harder and more expensive. So while we put thousands of people on Mars, and they turned into millions of people as the centuries rolled on, we only sent unmanned probes to the stars. People went to Mars, to Titan, to Ganymede. And we flourished, because despite all our complaining and demanding, we're fairly tough when we have to be. If you're reading this, then you know our history; I won't belabor the point. We had to be tough. We knew we didn't have any other choice. We knew we had to be tough, and patient.\n\nOur giant probe-ark was almost all the way to Betelgeuse when it suddenly exploded. Betelgeuse, not the probe. The star exploded. It didn't go supernova, it just popped like a balloon. Our best guess is that a cold, dark stellar remnant came in fast nearly perpendicular to the galactic plane and - one in a quintillion quintillions, wouldn't you know - hit the supergiant dead on. The trail of dim ejecta traced a mournful path up and out of the plane. This was devastating - five centuries of full-burn on a giant pre-Stagnation spaceship wasted. Well, may as well salvage what you can, right? So we gave the probe some new directions (oh, yeah, you did learn about FTL information, didn't you? It's not part of the core curriculum anymore since we can no longer figure out how to make the Locutor Pillars but the existing ones still work. Turns out sufficiently high-energy physics doesn't care about classical or quantum mechanics. It just does what it wants, when it wants. Often irreproducibly) to at least learn about what happens to local gravity fields when a star just up and leaves in a hurry. It was novel, and we wanted to know.\n\nAnd sometime between then and now, we found Home. Home had probably been pulled along with whatever blew up Betelgeuse, or maybe it had been orbiting Betelgeuse and we never looked in the right places at the right times. Whatever its provenance, Home was moving diagonally away from the dying wisps of that astral giant, and slowly enough that the probe was able to intercept it. Why would we? Well, Home was talking to us. First, we knew we were hearing things. Then, we knew we were not.\n\nHome is a giant rough ball with a magnetic field so strong that it glows with an eternal aurora. Home masses maybe three hundred Earths, so its gravity well is so monstrous that we couldn't send down any of the ark's landers. Instead, we had to send down the deep-sea recon probes. Home's core is iron and nickel, like Earth's, but so vast that even without a star to warm it, Home's surface would be hot enough to boil water, if the pressures weren't so high. And Home is home to giant, sessile silicon roots that are intelligent, have language, and can \"shout\" into the EM spectrum right around microwave frequency.\n\nThey call themselves Dreams, the xenolinguists tell us. Dreams believe that they are the awareness of Home. Dreams don't reproduce (that's giving biologists fits, by the way. Intelligent life that can't reproduce. Just duck into a conference, shout that, and duck out in the dead silence before the anguished wails and wrothful shouts begin), but are rather consciousnesses brought into being in existing polysilane riverbeds. This is why Dreams believe they are part of Home; they only exist to serve it and only exist as long as they are necessary. They have done A Great Wrong and Home has closed its wings to the sky, bringing darkness to the world and fear to the Dreams. That's what they know.\n\nWe know that the high concentration of silicon and polysilanes on the surface of Home means that it's a very young planet. It had to have been seeded with first-generation stars to have such a massive iron core, but then been caught in the orbit of a second-generation supergiant that rushed through oxygen synthesis and collapsed during silicon metabolism, supernovaing and seeding Home with the elements which would spawn life. We know that the magnetic field is so strong on Home - and so variable - that anything capable of holding magnetic fields can actually derive enough energy from the field flux to sustain some form of intelligence without having to eat or photosynthesize. (again, hi, biologists. Sorry.) We know this is how it probably works, but we do not know why.\n\nAnd so, welcome to humanity. We speak through forgotten technology across the vast, cold, uncaring dark, with an intelligence so alien that we cannot establish any semblance of common moral, ethical, or logical ground. We must save it, but it does not understand how salvation could be, if it were in the form of leaving Home, since Dreams cannot be apart from that which they are. We must learn, in the decades ahead, how to be their saviors, for we had many chances to save ourselves and never once succeeded. But we must succeed now. That, we know." ]	1
	[WP] You are a single parent working two jobs to help your daughter finish college. You have a third job as a contract killer. You never reveal your face or your identity to potential clients. Someone just offered you a contract on your baby girl.	[ "Sitting in silence, like always, facing my new client. It is the first meeting of the contract. \nYou know, when me and that other guy usually talks about who I should kill and all that, pricing, preferences.\nFunny thing is, this time I am not the only one covering my face.\n\nThat's a first.\n\n\nCan't say I have any reason for asking for them to reveal their face though, especially considering my own face is hidden behind a dark, crimson mask.\nStill, it does catch my attention. It's uncanny, it looks almost like one of my old masks, except this isn't crimson.\nHowever, the mask is resting in the shadows of the hood, so I can't tell for certain.\n\nYes, I have done this a lot, and I change masks from time to time. If you wondered.\n\n-Who's the target? I ask, a bit eager to get going, these meetings have never been the best part of the job.\n\nSilence. The other man, at least I think it's a man, fondles his pockets a bit. \nAfter a while he pulls out a small, near empty, bag of weed, and a couple of dollar-bills.\n\n-No thanks. I answer instinctively. One does not simply dull ones senses before a mission.\n\nHe shook his head, arrogantly. Appaerently it was not meant for me.\nAt last he pulls out a small crumbled paper and tosses it my way. \nI open it.\n\n\"Pamela Grader\"\n\nI recognize it at once as my daughter's name. But is has to be someone else. It can't be her, I won't let it be her.\n\n-I don't know anyone by that name. Trying my hardest to sound honest. \n\nNot that I actually care about honesty in this job, but some proffesialism must be kept.\nThe other person merely nods at me, as to say that I do.\n\n-Speak! \n\nSilence. I feel like I should be more annoyed than I am.\n\n-Speak!! \n\nMore silence. This time, he makes writing gestures in the air in front of him. \nI admit it. He annoys me.\n\n-So... mute, eh?\n\nA moment of hesitation, then a quick nod. \nI can't say I trust him, but this isn't going anywhere soon, I can feel it. \n\nI walk towards my desk in the corner of the room, giving quick looks in his direction as I walk.\nI retrieve a pen and paper for the stranger, and proceed to sit in silence and watch him slowly start sketching a girl.\n\nHe's good at drawing, I'll give him that. Not as good as my ex-wife though, she's the best. Damn I miss her!\n\nI start recognizing my girl from the half-finished sketch. \n\nFuck!\n\n I really need a drink now.\n\n-You want something to drink?\n\nHe din't answer. What did I expect?\n\n-Well, I'm giving you a glass anyway. I don't like drinking alone.\n\nHe better have a good reason for this. \nI know I shouldn't care, but fuck, seriously?\nThis is the first time I have felt some sort of disgust doing this thing.\n\nDamn it!\n\nA good glass of whiskey for both of us, at least I need this.\nThen I add a bit of anditode for my hydrogen cyanide mix, just for me though. \nIf you don't know: It will kill you, and you won't see or smell it. It's pretty good, don't you think?\n\nAs I sit back down and hand the normal whiskey to the stranger he shows me the drawing.\nIt's my daughter, no doubt.\n\n-Do you mind telling me why she needs to die? I ask, trying to be patiently. Unsure it I manage to.\n\nSilence, once more.\nI start to loose control.\n\n-I'm waiting. No, that was not my most patient moment.\n\nI don't know if I want to have control anymore.\nI feel the ampoule with hydrogen cyanide in my left fist. It moves behind my back.\n\n-Tell me why I have to kill her!\n\nNone of us makes a noise for a while.\n\n-What have she done?\n\nThe stranger looks down, still silent.\n\nI release the gas.\nI'm pretty sure he can hear the ampoule cracking.\nHe doesn't make a sound, of course.\n\nWaiting.\n\nIn the confidence I got from releasing the gas, I stand up.\nSo does he. He pulls of the hood, and hair fold out, reaching the waist.\n\n-She is my child as well you moron! She screams after ripping of the mask.\n\nThe first thing coming out of her mouth, yes I was mistaken about the gender, was not in any way what I expected.\nStill, it feels good to hear her voice again.\n\n-Sara? \n\nI stand looking at her\n\n-How did you...? I startle. - Why have...\n\nI can't speak. What in the name of God is this?\nClumsily moving towards each other we hug.\n\n-I'm sorry. I finish as I remember cracking the ampule.\n\nShe coughs.\n\n-She... She is not... please.\n\nSara's voice was weak.\nIt has already started. \nEven though it's not the most gory death imaginable, I can't bear to look at her.\nI rush back to the table with my spirits and antidotes. \n\nEmpty.\n\nHow come I didn't notice? Fuck this!\n\n-I'm so sorry.\n\nThen I feel it myself.\nMy vomit is suddenly on the table.\nI feel something hard against my skull as I fall.\n\n================================\n\nPamela walks down from her bedroom for breakfast the next morning. \n\nNo sight of dad, he is usually almost done eating by now.\n\nHer phone rings.\n\n\"Unknown number\"\n\n-Welcome to the Crimson Knives.", "The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention as soon as I saw the name. My breath seemed to elude me. The thickness of summer hung in the air making it harder for me to draw in the oxygen my brain so badly needed to makes sense of what I was seeing. My heart pounded louder with each beat, ringing in my ears. The sweat, already pooling on my skin, began to roll down my face as I stood on my porch in disbelief. \n\nI sat down and tried to take in deep breaths but my head began to swim with thoughts, trying to make sense of what I had just read. The sweat on my palms caused my phone to slip to the ground with a crack that abruptly snapped me out of my head. \n\nWhy Alexa? I thought. Why MY daughter? My heart sunk as I stood and gathered myself to go back inside. \n\n“I’m going to bed, mom!” my daughter said from the doorway. I hadn’t even heard her open the door. I stared at her. She was beautiful. Her long brown hair and those soft curls that floated down her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled despite the dim light of the porch. My thoughts once again drifted off, I thought of her as a baby, when she was brought to me. I thought about how I had chosen her just as much as she had chosen me. How we calmed each other when we needed it most; her being cast aside by her birth mother, and me when I struggled with the discovery that I would never be able to have a child of my own. I thought about her last fall as I dropped her off at college, how she was so nervous about being a college student. I thought about how proud I was of her during that first year, how well she had done how she was becoming such an amazing young woman. I had vowed to protect her, to love her, to give her the best life I could. And now some monster wants to take that all away from me. Wants ME to take her life... \n\n“Mom?” She said, again snapping me back. \n\n“Sorry hun, I’m coming in. Good night, I love you,” I said, smiling at her as I walked toward her. \n\n“Night, I love you, too,” her soft and sweet voice comforted me again. \n\nShe turned and went up the stairs. I stood for a moment, watching her, loving her, realizing this may be the last time I see her, hear her. In a moment, she was gone, I heard her door close softly, but still echoing in my ears. \n\nI slowly walked to the kitchen, tears welled in my eyes. I tried to swallow back my fear, my throat felt like sand paper. I grabbed my flask and took a long drink. The cool liquid soothed me and reminded me that I had a decision to make. I sat down at the table and opened the email. I winced. It hurt to see her name. It hurt worse than anything had ever hurt me. To see her name, the rage began to creep in. I grabbed my laptop and opened the email again. In just a few minutes, I was able to track where it was was sent from. \n\nI had 24 hours to accept or decline the offer. I waited until the next afternoon. I got into my car and drove over to the quiet campus. I still didn’t understand why someone wanted my my daughter dead. But, I was content with my plan. I knew what had to be done, as life changing as it would be, I would have to do it. \n\nI pulled up in front of the building. I sat and waited. Just before dusk, I accepted the offer with an email to the client. I methodically put my rifle together, glancing up every few seconds, checking the window for my target. There she is. It’s time. \n\nI raise my gun, I see her through the scope, she pauses, looking down at her desk, I pull the trigger. Her head jerks, launching her body forward, she begins to swirl towards the ground, blonde hair cascading around her as she falls. \n\nI drive back to my house for the last time. I stop in front and wait. I look in the backseat at the two suitcases side by side. I smile as I see the front door open. ", "“I don’t know mom, I mean, I like him, but it’s just so hard to talk to him, you know?”, Emily’s voice spoke softly in her mom’s earpiece. \n\n“I know dear. It’s hard these days, you’re in college now, the boys there are different. Especially at MIT, they don’t have as many...social skills.” Janet replied, as she opened the black case revealing a dismantled sniper rifle. She began to take the pieces out and assemble them one by one. \n\n“Oh don’t even get me started!” Emily replied, “It’s like the boys here don’t even know how cute they are, because they’ve lives so long being nerds!”. They both let out a laugh. Janet took her position on the rooftop across from the ambassador's hotel. \n\n“Well you know, you were a bit of a outcast yourself if you remember. You have to find something in common with him. Why don’t you invite that little crush of yours over for one of your little board game things. What do you call it, Dungeons and something.” She had the target in her crosshairs, waiting for his assistant to move out of the way.\n\n“It’s dragon’s mom, and no! What if he things i’m a mega nerd! Then he will never go out with me!” Emily let out a aggravated grunt. “UGH! Why are relationships so hard!” \n\n“Welcome to being and adult dear. Anyway, I’m late for work, gotta go, love you!” Janet said, “Love you too mom.” Emily replied. The call ended, and Janet pulled the trigger. She pulled out her phone, an image of the target on it. She sent a message confirming the kill.\n\n-----------\n\nJanet rushed into the diner, still tying her apron as she walked. “Sorry guys” she said to her co-workers. “Was talking to Emily and lost track of time.”\n\n“Oh don’t worry dear, we know how it is” Debra replied in a reassuring tone. “I’ve been there. When my boy went off to college talking to him was the highpoint of my day. I would get lost in his voice and forget what day it was.” Janet smiled at her, “Thanks Deb.”\n\nJanet grabbed a coffee pot and began to make her rounds. Working at the diner was her favorite time of the day. It gave her time to think, and relax. Not to mention the social interactions were good for her cover. She didn’t mind the rude customers here and there, the knowledge that she could take them with the flick of her wrist helped keep her temper in check. \n\n‘Boop-beep’, her phone chimed. She reached in and grabbed her old flip phone, but there were no messages. She looked around to make sure no one was watching as she snuck to the pantry and closed the door. She pulled another phone from a concealed pocket in the inner lining of her pants. When she saw the contract she froze. Wanted: Emily Smith, Computational Engineer, MIT, Part of the AI Defense program, Reward $10,000.\n\nShe dropped the phone, the picture of her daughter staring up at her. ‘Wha...what did you do?’ She thought. ‘What am I going to do’.\n\n----------\n\nJanet sat in her cubicle typing away at her computer; her mind was drifting. ‘What did Emily get herself into? What is the AI Defense program? Think!... Ok last time we talked she said something. Something about a government contract that she for on. Maybe that was it. What did she say she was doing.’ She struggled to remember the details, but it was on the tip of her tongue, her fingers continuing to type on the keyboard. ‘Something about coding for a big government project that would…how did she put it? Change the way that we fight terrorism! That was it! That means….oh no, the contract must have been placed by a foreign entity. Which means every hitman in the world got this, not just locals!’ \n\n “Janet?...Janet!”. The voice shouted, interrupting her train of thought. Her boss standing behind her looking at her screen. “Hey, get your head in the game Janet. Your fingers or off the home keys, everything you just typed is gibberish.” She looked at her screen. He was right, everything was offset by one key. \n\n“Sorry Mr. James, I’m…not feeling well” She replied. \n\nMr. James sighed, “Fine, take the rest of the day off, you’re no good to me like this.” He said, “unpaid too” He added. \n\nNormally Janet would have refocused and stuck it out, but not today, she had work to do. She gathered her things and rushed out of the office. She pulled the phone out again, and looked at her daughters picture, a plan brewing.\n\n----------\n\nShe watched her daughter through her scope. Keeping her in the crosshairs. She moved the scope across the faces in the crowds, looking around for the hitman. She monitored the contract and found the person who accepted it. His name was John Erickson, an alias for sure, but she still managed to surface a picture of him. She continued to search for him. She knew he was planning to make the move today, she just needs to get to him, before he gets to Emily. She continued to scan, but nothing, he wasn’t here. “Damn” she said, “I must have tipped him off somehow” \n\n“Actually, everything is going as planned really” A voice said behind her. She twirled around reaching for her pistol, “Nope, I wouldn’t do that “ he said his gun trained on her head. She paused.\n\n“And who are you?” She asked as her mind reeled, trying to come up with a plan. \n\n“Oh, Janet, I’m hurt! You don’t remember me?”, He smiled. “Well then, that means the program was a success I guess.” In his other hand he held a folder, he tossed it to her. She slowly picked it up and opened it as he recited the file by memory. “Agent Janet Smith, subject 1435. Specialty in long range firearms and stealth missions. Speaks 5 languages and has a Masters in Computational Engineering. Like Mother like daughter huh?”\n\nJanet looked over the file, “But… how?... I… I don’t”\n\n“Remember?” He finished, “Good, that was the idea. We tried to discourage procreation as well, but it seems it didn’t stick with you. Any how, it’s time for you to return, and we can’t have anymore family ties.” \n\n“You expect me to let my daughter die? HA, You’re insane. I would protect her with my life.” She replied, as she slowly reached for her pistol under the file. \n\n“We know, and that’s why we must do this the hard way.” He replied. \n\nShe smiled, “Fine, let's do this the hard way” She reached for her pistol, She froze. \n\n“Oh thank goodness, it worked” he said with a fake sign of relief as he pulled a small device from his pocket. “This is your trigger, right now it’s playing a paralyzing frequency. Moving will cause you great pain, so your brain won’t allow it. It was a fail safe that i insisted on, good thing too, it would seem” he walked over, picking up the file and kicking the gun from her reach. He opened the file and turned to the last page. “Status: Asleep. Well, not anymore I guess?” He tucked the file under his arm and clicked the device. The frequency changed. The anger and fear in Janet’s eyes vanished. She looked up at the man, this time she recognized him. “Mr. Gomez, Whe….where am I?”\n\n“On assignment Ms. Smith.” He said and gestured to her rifle. “And your target” he showed her the image of Emily. She studied the image, then turned to the rifle, found her target, and pulled the trigger. \n \nEdit: grammar\n", "Ask no questions. Number one rule. An assignment is given, and you complete it. No questions. I started this game at fifteen, and aside from the technological advancements, much hasn't changed.\n\nWhen my latest assignment is received, my expression remains a dull, attentive mask, but my brain steels in shock. And my first thought isn't Why but What did she do?\n\n\"Any questions.\" The Agent stares at me, potentially knows, potentially doesn't care. A test. Another test after twenty\\-five years of diligent work and a spotless record.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\n\n\"Ink trade.\"\n\nMonty shows the records. I can breathe now. I can think. I read them alongside him, unable to process the impossible figures beneath me, \"She's good.\"\n\n\"Better than good.\" Monty explains, \"She's crushing the competition. The ink's safer, stronger, and the addictive elements are watered. Doesn't destabilize the toon, making it the preferred substance.\"\n\n\"Double major \\- Chemistry and Criminal Justice.\" I should know. I've been paying the tuition for the past five years, \"She's graduating this year.\"\n\nHe whistles, \"Gotta say I'm impressed. Who'd thunk?\"\n\nShe's reached an entirely new market having integrating the toon and human population. Her ink won't ruin the respiratory system or any system, not that humans had to fear that \\-\\- the worse they expected was a lukewarm high.\n\n\"Get rid of this.\" Grabbing my mask, I formulate a plan, \"All of it, can't have any evidence.\"\n\nMonty glares at me, already knowing what my next plan of action, \"Be careful out there, Tony. The Bureau won't like this.\"\n\n\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\n\nGet a new car. I can afford that. Have her diploma mailed to a P.O. Box. My parents are dead. Her mother is gone. Her friends \\- she can make new friends, find a new job, change her name. I wince at that. Her grandmother named her.\n\nStep after step pushes through as I sit in the driveway. Her car is on the other side of mine. The kitchen light is on; I can see her through the window. She's preparing eggplant lasagna. She's already paid the graduation fee, purchased the gown, and has a frame ready and set for the wall.\n\nI want to be angry. Who should I be angry at? Myself? The Bureau? Her?\n\nToo many factors. Closing the door behind me, I think of what I'm going to say to her, and simply, there isn't anything I can say that'll make this better. But I want to know why. Opening the door, I know I want to know \\- have to understand why she'd put herself out there.\n\n\"Cordelia, I \\- I,\" a numbing pain shoots into the back of my neck. Sudden dizziness overwhelms me, and I feel myself falling, but someone catches me. Someone cradles my neck.\n\n\"Don't you dare let him hit the floor,\" someone says.\n\nThat's my girl, relief fills me, and I feel nothing else.\n\n\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\n\n\"It's more than a privilege but an honor to receive this award for academic achievement.\"\n\n\"The bombing of The Order of Sicarius' has left the world reeling.\"\n\n\"While many people have earned my lifelong respect and gratitude, no one stands out like my father, who has always supported me despite my shortcomings.\"\n\n\"Among the dead is Chairman Bakar del Toro alongside four other Executive Committee members.\"\n\nDirector Bakar del Toro is among the dead along with members of the Executive Committee.\"\n\n\"He has sacrificed so much for me to stand up here today, and I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.\"\n\n\"Tony Lear worked two jobs to raise me.\" Tears cradle on the edges of my eyes, \"Whenever he came home, he had to tend to an overactive child who wanted nothing more than her father's attention, and he did, every time. I could never tell when exhaustion had reached its peak of the day.\"\n\n\"You taught me to be resilient.\"\n\n\"An unidentified body was also found among the wreckage.\"\n\n\"You taught me to be clever.\"\n\n\"It is currently under review.\"\n\n\"You taught me to be ten times better than the best.\"\n\n\"We will report when additional information is discovered.\"\n\nI choke on a sob that doesn't meet my eyes, \"Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, for everything.\"", "This was the hardest job I'd ever been given and I'd taken down everyone from street bums to politicians. As I sat on the rooftop putting together the sniper rifle I thought about my weapon of choice. There was no way I could do this face to face.\n\n\"Elizabeth Lorraine Smith\" the target portfolio had read. My daughter. My only living child. To be given up as the ultimate loyalty test to the Agency. The test of Abraham.\n\nI slid three rounds into the clip. I got into position on the rooftop across from her apartment. She'd be home now, I knew. Better to to this quickly and get the hell out of there. \n\nShe slid into view and I aimed, my mind clearing of all thoughts and emotion. When I pulled the trigger there was no going back. The cross-hairs set directly into her forehead I pulled the trigger and the loud explosion filled the air. \n\n___\n\n\"She killed who?\" Sub-director Sims asked the agent.\n\n\"The director,\" the lackey reported, \"She killed the fucking director herself! And three more sub-directors! You're acting Director now, sir.\"\n\n\"That bitch,\" he said, rubbing his temple, \"I want all agents to take her down. We gave her a simple test and she pulls this bullshit?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" he answered, \"We're already on it.\"\n\n___\n\nSurprisingly her card still worked as she drove the van into the parking garage of the Agency building. She knew it would take time for the Agency to react to what she had done. There was only one way to save her daughter now and it was sitting wired to the fifty gallon drums of fertilizer. She sighed.\n\n___\n\n\"The terrorist action against the Fullerton Federal Building,\" the news anchor was saying, standing before a smoking pile of rubble, \"Is unprecedented. Government officials are saying...\"\n\n\"Oh shit,\" Liz said to her best friend, \"That's where my mom works!\" She hit her mom's contact on her cell phone. There was no answer." ]	5
	[WP] Hell is not a mythical place made up by the religious to control the masses. It is a real place that was built by an ancient, forgotten, civilisation who kept criminals eternally alive while torturing them. One day, quite by accident, you stumble into Hell…	[ "\"You think it's stable here?\" I asked my partner and fellow archaeologist David. Greek ruins aren't as structurally sound as they once were. 2,500 years of weathering and decay will do that. \n\n\"Uhh, tie yourself off and we can test it.\" \n\nWe were in a carved out cave system the Greek people mined for years. It was more interesting than the other cave systems you might run across in Greece because there was virtually nothing of value in this particular mine, yet it was dug with more work and effort than any other mine. This section was suspicious as it was not part of the natural stone, but weathered marble placed over a hole. \n\nI found a suitable crack in the walls and shoved the climbing nut into it, tying myself off, just in case the floor collapsed underneath us. \n\nI nodded to David, \"Alright I'm good, take a sample.\" \n\nDavid knelt down with a chisel and hammer, to sample what kind of marble was used here. \n\n\"You're gonna have to send that to Bryan.\" I said smiling. \n\nHe shook his head, \"I know. Let's hope he doesn't talk to me for 25 minutes about pumice again.\" \n\n\"He's the best geologist we're affiliated with, and he's your best friend.\" \n\nDavid stopped chiseling to glare at me, pointing at me with his chisel to emphasize his statements. \n\n\"Shut the fuck up Neil. I hate no one on Earth more than Bryan Fontane.\" \n\nI giggled. He went back to chiseling. \n\n\"Laugh it up Neil, but next time he crashes our lunch, I'm letting you talk to him.\" \n\nI smirk resting my hand on the cave wall, \n\n\"Pff. I'll tell him to shut up or get blasted in the face.\" \n\nDavid shakes his head again, \n\n\"Yeah... okay.\" \n\nI went to speak again but David's palm shot into the air. He froze and whispered slowly, \n\n\"Don't move.\" \n\nI began to hear what he was hearing, a groaning of the floor beneath us. I whispered back, \n\n\"How do we get off?\" \n\nDavid looked around us, he was pretty much in the center, I was closer to a wall. He slowly stood up and took a step toward me. The floor groaned and his foot fell through the crumbling floor. The momentum carried him to his waist. He clutched the floor helplessly as it too began to give way. \n\nI gripped his hand as the floor crumbled completely and we both fell into whatever it was the Greeks wanted to cover up. \n\n\"Neil. Neil! Wake up!\" \n\nI batted my eyelids, my head hurt. So did my arm, a lot actually. I saw David's face in front of mine, caked in dirt and dust. \n\nDavid opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by a low growl. \n\nWe both turned toward the sound, deeper into the chasm we'd fallen into. The light from the hole could not pierce it's dark veil. We could make out a vague shape lumbering toward us. \n\nDavid squinted, \n\n\"Is that a... big dog?\" \n\nFrom the darkness, a massive dog's head stared at us. To it's left and right I saw two more similar shapes. \n\nI groaned, \"Oh my god. That looks like, Cerberus?\" \n\nDavid looked at me, then back to the beast. This was surreal. The beast was fully in view now. It was indeed a massive three headed dog. For what seemed like an eternity we just stared at it, with all three of it's heads glaring back at us. \n\nI whispered to David, \"Why isn't it killing us?\" \n\nHe shot me an angry look, \"Did you not pay attention in class or what? Cerberus guards the souls of hell from leaving. Doesn't give two shits about anyone coming in.\" \n\nI hissed back, \"Why are you so calm about this? We're trapped down here with a ten foot, three headed dog!\" \n\nHe threw his hands into the air, \"Oh I don't know Neil, probably because we're fucking dead.\" \n\nI paused. Dead? I looked back to where we landed, no bodies. \n\n\"We're not dead David. My arm hurts and I have to pee. I don't think souls have bones or full bladders.\" \n\nDavid stroked his chin, deep in thought. What I said was stupid, but made sense. The perfect shut down for a know-it-all. \n\nWOOF WOOF WOOF\n\nAll three heads of Cerberus barked at us. He turned and walked deeper into the darkness. \n\nDavid got up and walked after him. \n\n\"David what are you doing?\" \n\n\"Well we can't get out that way.\" He pointed to the hole we fell through, \"And Cerberus kinda sounded like he wanted us to follow him. Maybe Greek people fell down here all the time and got lost. Could be a guide dog more so than a guard dog.\" \n\nDamn it. That was stupider than what I said, but also still made sense. \n\nYou win this round David\n\nI followed David, who was following Cerberus, into the dark abyss. \n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------\nPart 1. " ]	1
	[Wp] write a story in which there is an incredibly technologically advanced people and incredibly magically advanced people	[ "For a long time, Tim had trouble finding work. He was so average in every way, that it seemed like he'd never land a solid gig, much less find something meaningful. He was on the shorter side, and he'd done well enough in school to pass everything, but he'd never excelled, per se. He'd never even resonated with a specialty.\n\nBut all that had changed when he went out to interview with the captain of the Ark VII. The captain was middle aged woman with a tan, muscular physique. Despite grey streaks in her hair, she looked fit enough to murder a troll with her bare hands.\n\nShe'd eyed him up and down for a long time before asking any questions.\n\n\"You any good with Crystal systems?\" \nTim shrugged, \"I suppose I'm passable.\"\n\n\"You think you can learn on the job?\"\n\nThat had been out of left field. \"Yes, ma'am, I suppose I could.\"\n\n\"Well if you're on my crew, you'll have to stop supposing and start doing. I need someone who can do refractory repairs in very tight spaces. Some of our systems have almost no crawl space to access.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm half Halfling,\" Tim ventured.\n\nIt was a pretty uncommon combination, and the vast majority of half\\-Halflings looked like petite humans. Few were as small as Tim had ended up. While Humans were frequently attracted to Halflings, with their lithe bodies and pixie\\-like features, actual childbearing was frought with major health complications. So many people had died in the process of trying.\n\n\"So,\" the captain hesitated for a moment, \"so you're a quarterling?\"\n\nTim forced a laugh. It was not the first time he'd heard that one.\n\n\\-\\-\n\nOn board the Ark VII, Tim had quickly settled into a routine. He was on for three days and then off for one. At first this was a confusing adjustment from the usual 9\\-day week, but he found it pleasant. By the time \"hump day\" rolled around, it was also the day before his day off.\n\nThe best part was that the work was actually satisfying. True, a large part of his initial appeal had been his diminutive size, but it turned out that refractory repair on Crystal systems was as much an art as it was a science. Not only that, but he was almost good at it.\n\n\"You know, you're almost good at this,\" his boss told him pretty much every third week. Grum was the most massive Dwarf Tim had ever met. He was also one of the friendliest. Tim hadn't learned anything about his job during his first week, and had nearly caused a ship\\-wide malfunction when he attempted his first repair. Despite having taken up the whole week with stories and questions, Grum was amazed to learn that Tim hadn't learned anything about refractory repair during the time.\n\nIn the end, Grum ended up being an excellent teacher, however, and Tim quickly became a borderline competent repairman under his tutelage.\n\n\\-\\-\n\nOne day, Grum brought Tim a new set of tools, and congratulated him on making it through a year of apprenticeship. The gift was traditional, but Tim was grateful, even though his anniversary had been three weeks ago.\n\nIt felt good to be decked out with new tools, and a squeaky new leather belt to hold them. Not that refractory repair needed an extensive toolset. Still, it gave Tim no little swagger as he strode down the walkway.\n\nOn top of the tools and the gruff\\-yet\\-spine\\-cracking pat on the back Grum had given him, Tim was assigned to the bridge today for a tricky repair.\n\nThe bridge systems were known for being extremely delicate, not to mention obviously some of the most important on the ship.\n\n\"There's something wonky with a few of the sensors,\" Grum told him before dispatching him directly to the bridge. It wasn't much to go on, but that was the trick with refractory repair; it was at least as much an art as a science.\n\nOn the bridge, Tim lost his swagger. The captain was striding slowly among the stations, hands clasped officiously behind her back, muscles bulging beneath her uniform. The First Mate, a surly elf with lank grey hair and steely eyes, was perched on the main command chair, scrawling furtively on a Slate.\n\n\"Over here,\" he sneered.\n\nTim stood under his baleful glare before finally saluting awkwardly. The repair crew functioned mostly like a family with almost none of the ceremony or procedure of the rest of the ship. \nThe First Mate, whose name Tim could not recall for the life of him, showed him over to the main sensor station. He brushed aside the ensign manning the station and gestured impatiently, as if the sensor malfunction were apparent.\n\nTim peeled open the access panel at the bottom and squirmed his upper body as far in as he could. He peered around and ran some quick tests with his new gear. He wiggled his way back out.\n\n\"There's nothing wrong with the system,\" he reported.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" the First Mate growled. The captain subtly shifted so she could observe their interaction.\n\n\"Uh. Oh, sorry, sir. There's nothing wrong with the crystal system, sir.\"\n\nThe First Mate was exasperated. \"Crewman, the sensors reported this planet as a dead planet. Now, we are receiving a signal from the planet, but there is nothing capable of generating such a signal.\"\n\nBefore he could think better of it, Tim suggested, \"have you tried answering?”" ]	1
	[WP] You fight an invisible assailant. You never know when it will attack and no one can sees it, see you fighting it, nor can they see the wounds it inflicts.	[ "I don’t remember the first time he hit me, or when my legs crumbled beneath me and I can’t quite remember where I was either. But I woke up from a coma that felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my cranium. I felt different, empty, alone, embarrassed. I had to calm myself, I had nobody to turn to, nobody to tell, I rarely spoke about it, always talking in hypotheticals it was easier that way. \n\nI was 17 when it first happened, ten years later and it hasn’t gotten any better, in fact the frequency has only increased, each time it causes me to blackout but each time I remember a little bit more. I remember the last time vividly, but that was only because I was just leaving my fathers funeral, consumed by grief and regret that I didn’t take advantage of the time we had together, that’s when I felt the first punch. I was driving down a lone country road and thankfully I had been down this road many times before, it was perfect to get lost on and to just think without having to give it all my focus. That’s probably why I was able to pull to the side so quickly and do battle.\n\nAfter pulling over I jumped out of my car and immediately knew the fight was on. I never won, but I was braver each time, a bit more resilient before going down for the count, I had been training ever since the first time, but he was always stronger. He let me throw the first punch, it connected. I smiled, this time might be my time, the smile faded as quickly as it appeared. After avoiding several haymakers, I feel the fight consume me, taking multiple punches to the gut and a right hook to the eye socket that had me seeing stars. The last thing I remember is another car pulling up just as I was falling towards my own car, and a willow tree, in my peripheral view. \n\nI woke up, still on the side of the road, a woman with a concerning look on her face stood over me, I felt a damp rag across my forehead. She told me I had been out for few minutes, she asked if I had been drinking. I’m sure I looked crazy, but I assured her I was fine and that this happened often enough. I thanked her for her kindness and continued home. \n\nAfter a day like that, I deserved a drink, I just needed to take the edge off, needed to forget, needed to dull the pain. Too stressed to play with my kids I sent them away with a freshly delivered pizza. They didn’t understand that their Grandpa was gone, the innocence, it was nice to see. I had a few more drinks that night before considering how I was going to handle my next battle with him. \n\nAfter those drinks my plan was to head to bed, but my assailant had a different plan. \n\nI woke up in the morning, to my girls peeling back my eyelids. My head had clearly taken another pounding. \n\nI sludged through the day, taking the girls to the park and then ice cream afterwards. Sometimes I feared that on a good day like this, he would appear, when I am most vulnerable, when my girls are happy, when I am thinking about their mother, or my dad. Thinking about how they are looking down on us. Missing us as we miss them. After what I considered a great day, and after the girls were tucked in for the evening, I decided to have a drink, in honor of my dad. He was happiest when he had a drink in his hand, and to be fair, a bit more tolerable too. I sat in my favorite chair, his chair, but now mine in his absence. Remembering the good times, pouring another I remembered the not so good times too. I remembered the embarrassing times, the times where I would vow to never come home. I was vulnerable. My assailant knew it.\n\nThis fight was different. How many years had I fought him? How many times had I lost? I couldn’t do it anymore, and I wasn’t going to do it here, I couldn’t stand for my girls to see their daddy on the floor again, defeated.\n\nI ran. \n\nI grabbed my keys, got in my car and drove to that familiar road, to that familiar willow tree. He followed close behind. I felt him, closer and closer. As I threw the car into ‘PARK’ I jumped out, swinging the only weapon I had close by, an empty beer bottle. Again, he was faster, I cried out in frustration. I was so tired of this fight. So tired of losing. I thought of my wife, the sadness in her eyes as she left this world. I thought of the struggle my father had, raising me on his own, and then I thought of the parallel of his life as my own now. Having to raise my girls without a mother. But neither my wife or father had to fight a ghost, a demon, a shadow. I didn’t even know what he was. But he was winning again. I threw my beer bottle at him with all my might, it shattered against the tree. I screamed, “ENOUGH!” \n\nAnd just like that he was gone. I froze, unsure of what to do next. I got back in my car, sweating profusely, and headed home. I was still in a daze when I pulled into the driveway, but I felt a certain calm that I hadn’t felt before. \n\nThat night was the last night I touched a drink, that night was the last battle. I finally won the most important victory. My life. " ]	1
	[WP] You and your friends wake up to find that you have been turned into your party members for your Dungeons and Dragons campaign	[ "The first thing i noticed upon waking up was that my very fingers hummed with power, cantrips just an utterance or a gesture away, crackling beneath my skin. The second thing was the fact that i had played a female elf to \"mix it up and get out of my comfort zone.\" It appeared, however, that my companion the dragonborn was even more disorient at rhe anatomical changes he was experiencing.\n\n\"What,\" growled out a bass voice tight with anxiety, \"exactly, is going on?\"\n\nI thought, and for a moment, a rolling d20 flashed before my eyes, sertling on a welcome 17. With my, erm, 'aquired' knowledge, i said \"Well, Hult of the icy breath, we have magically been summoned to become our characters.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"Well, when Nick said he wanted to roleplay more seriously, i thought he would enforce it much differently.\"\n\n\"Ahh, yes. I suppose that reminds me, the terrible trio should still be in the stockades for their latest attempt at thievery.\"\n\nHe stood, bumping his head against the ceiling with his foot and a half of unaccustomed height. \"Barzul! Well, i suppose i ought visit them and make sure theyre ok. I might see about finding rotten fruits to throw at them.\"\n\n\"Ahh, yes. That would be rather in character for you.\" I ran my finger along my pointed ear, finding the chunk removed by a goblin arrow last session.\n\n\"Actually, i was thinking more about it being thereputic. After all, we are being hunted by a league of assassins.\"\n\n\"Oh. Right. Suppose that is a bit more stressful now that we are more fleshed out characters.\" At the dirty look i recieved, i responded, \"what? Puns are very in character for me!\"", "I blinked for a moment. I wasn't in bed, I wasn't home. Where was I?\n\n\"Ahem, as I was saying, Kyrus,\" the man across the table from me cleared his throat. He looked so small, but he was a human right? Wait... \"We were discussing the Rigorian Artifacts and of course if you find any, we will pay you handsomely.\" The man was accompanied by another, both wearing burgundy outfits with gold trim. Oh no...\n\n\"Well,\" my voice was deep, gruff with impossible bass, \"should we ever come across these artifacts we'll be sure to let you know.\" I lifted a hand in the air as I spoke and saw that my hand... was covered in black hair. I looked down at the rest of my body and had to resist a yelp of confusion and surprise. I was a Minotaur. Was I... he called me Kyrus... I quickly looked to my right, a tin Grippli, a frog like people, looked back up to me in confusion. Then I glanced to my left, a tall human looked back. None of us spoke beyond that.\n\n\"Very well then, I can see from your innocent reaction that you are indeed not in possession of any artifacts. Yes, well then. Onto other matters. The business we have with a mutual nuisance... House Geffen,\" The man who I had remembered to be named Morgan reached down for a handful of parchment. The many behind him, Keris nodded his head. This is exactly where our last D&D session ended... we were about to negotiate, oh no! \"For every Geffen uniform you bring us, preferably wrapped around a dead Geffenian—of course we'll take it regardless—we will pay ten gold pieces. This is of course also along side our original agreement of the destruction of Geffen's Prison Ships, which you succeeded in doing so valiantly, by the way. That payment will be delivered to you via G6 Express Sail Lines within the week. Anyway, do you have any objections to our terms of payment?\"\n\nIt was Mile's turn to speak, the human to my left. Dylan's character. \"Well, your terms are rather generous, to be sure. But I and, I'm sure my associates here, were hoping to discuss the possible increase in payment for each Geffenian uniform?\" Mile's lifted an eyebrow. Ugh, Bards...\n\nMorgan smiled and shook his head slowly, \"Mind you, Miles, we have plenty of other mercenaries working for us behind the scenes and I can assure you our payment is generous and more than adequate. So, you can either agree to our terms, or live your life here on the continent of Azkor always wondering if a Rigorian Guardsman will pay you a visit in your sleep.\" Morgan's smile turned to a mischievous grin.\n\nI remembered then what was going on. We had just freed a large group of prisoners from the Geffenian Prison Ships and burned all of the soldiers in the lower decks alive with the help of the Rigorian Armada. Phoebe's mom was badly injured in the prison breaks and she had just discovered that her little brother died defending their mom against the Geffenian shock troops that imprisoned her. So much happened last session, I was trying to remember all of it.\n\n\"I think—\" Miles chuckled but was cut off before he could continue.\n\n\"Agreed, we must be on our way now,\" I smiled and nodded my head, realizing I was a Minotaur and not a human, the gesture might have looked odd. All three of us stood up quickly and I offered a bow before we quickly turned to leave. The Rigorians on the other side of the table made no effort to stop us and nodded their heads, seeing the meeting as concluded.\n\n\"What the hell is going on?\" Kermit asked, the frogman.\n\n\"Katie?\" I asked, curious.\n\n\"Yes! What the hell? Dylan?\" She looked to Miles, her brother's character.\n\n\"Are we... wait, we're all here, this can't be a dream, does that mean?\" All three of us decided to finally look upwards into the sky. The sun was high in the air and gave the sight an even more majestic atmosphere. Dozens of huge sailing ships were gliding through the sky, their glimmering sails carrying the huge wooden hulks from place to place. Voices, shouts, music, yelling, speech in different languages, everything was so overwhelming that we all just stood there, silent. The city of Prontera was alive and active with people of all ages and races. The streets had vendors selling any item the three of us could think of, the wharves were all busy, the taverns scattered around were full of patrons. I gasped.\n\n\"Shit...\" Miles muttered under his breath. \"Does this mean we own that shit we stole then?\"\n\nKermit and I looked at him, before any of us could speak, we dashed off down the road. We weren't sure where we were going, but as we all remembered the map that our Dungeon Master drew out for the city, we had a good idea. As we rounded a corner, there she was. The Mistake Not My Current State Of Joshing Gentle Peevishness For The Awesome And Terrible Majesty Of The Towering Seas Of Ire That Are Themselves The Mere Milquetoast Shallows Fringing My Vast Oceans Of Wrath floated there, moored against the cheapest dock we could find.\n\nEvlus and Bronzehammer were barking orders as we approached to our shipmates, I couldn't help but grin. \"Ah, Captains Kyrus, Kermit and Miles, welcome aboard. What can I get for ya'?\" Bronzehammer's voice was rumbly, even for a dawrf. Elvus the elf walked up and smiled wide.\n\n\"It's a pleasure to have you back, how did the negotiations go?\" Elvus asked in her silky voice.\n\nMiles, Kermit and I stood in silence for a moment. I decided to speak up, \"Well,\" I nodded my head, stepping onto the huge floating brig. \"Have Kevin XIII, Kobe Bryant and Shazam prep the ship's camo for night, we're going hunting for Geffen.\"\n\nNot a minute later, the ship was ready for cast off. Kevin XIII, Kobe Bryant and Shazam—the three ratfolk Kermit was definitely not supposed to kidnap—had placed a grey painted orb into the ship's heart which was a glowing prismatic beam under some of the floor boards which was found by accident. The heart of the ship then repainted it's own exterior in accordance to the color of the orb placed within its heart.\n\nKermit, Miles and myself had a chat regarding just what the hell was going on. We had agreed to simply play our part and see if we wake up. The campaign hadn't been terribly difficult so far and they were well on their way to being rich if they could get enough Geffenian uniforms. Then the reality struck. We would have to kill people...\n\nThat feeling only lasted a short time, House Geffen were assholes and the very definition of an antagonist in a story." ]	2
	[WP] Every night, the same dream.	[ "\"I just got a new doggy named Poochie. I wanted to call her Poochyena, like the Pokemon, but my mom thought that was too long of a name. Anyway, I really love my dog, but I keep having this nightmare about her. It'll make the most sense if I just tell you how the nightmare goes. \n\nI'm sitting with my dog on the couch, watching spongebob in the start of the first one. Do you watch spongebob? It's my favorite show. I think it was the episode where plankton was in a Mr. Krabs robot suit. Anyway, I'm watching spongebob, sitting on the couch with Poochie, but then, then another Poochie comes up and starts barking at the Poochie on the couch. I look at the barking Poochie, and suddenly my hair is standing on end and I feel like I do whenever I'm about to be grounded. I look over at the couch Poochie and she's growing. \n\nBut not just growing like getting bigger, but growing and getting meaner. She got huge sharp claws, and her fur turned from white to black, and her shape changed to be all scary looking and wolfy, and, and I just grabbed the barking Poochie and ran away. I knew that barking Poochie was the real one after that. \n\nI dont know why, but I keep having this dream over and over. It's not always the same starting point, but I always have to figure out which Poochie is the real one, and which one is the fake one. I've gotten hurt a few times in this dream, too. That fake Poochie really hurts, and I don't ever wake up when she catches me. I just have to take it in the dream. \n\nDoes that make any sense? I love Poochie, but I'm always a little careful around her because of the dreams. I know they're just dreams, but I don't know why I keep having them.\"\n\n\"Well, Denny, I think I know the problem. You're just not used to having a dog. Tell me, have you had a dog before?\"\n\n\"No, but I've had cats.\"\n\n\"Ah, but cats and dogs are very different. You've seen that movie, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but I didn't like how they made the cats look evil. I like cats. Molly was great.\"\n\n\"I'm sure she was. Well, Denny, I think you should just spend as much time with Poochie as possible. Just get used to her and these dreams should go away.\"\n\n\"Really Dr. Fauber?\"\n\n\"Really. Spend all the time you can with her during the day, but don't sleep with her. You want to get used to her, not suffocate her. Can you remember that, Denny?\"\n\n\"Okay, I can remember that.\"\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\n\"Thank you so much Dr. Fauber. I can't tell you how many times I've had to go into his room in the odd hours of the morning and calm him down after these nightmares.\"\n\n\"My pleasure Mrs. Shea. Just make sure he follows what I told him to do and don't let him sleep with Poochie.\"\n\n\"Believe me, I won't. Anything to get these damned nightmares to stop.\"\n\n\"Glad to hear it, Mrs. Shea. See you in two weeks.\"\n\n...\n\nDr. Fauber pulls out his cell phone and hits a number on speed dial. \n\n\"Yeah, James? I'm gonna need some help. Got a shapeshifter at 4058 Carlyle Lakes Blvd.\"\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nBased on my own recurring nightmares with my own dog, Poochie. " ]	1
I hope this isn't breaking rule #3, so don't read this if you want unlimited creativity/no recipe. If you want to see "my recipe" or need more promoting, I'd like it if someone to bake my flour into their cake (write it using their style), so here are details I would've used if I had any writing skill: Perhaps when the memory turns, they have no remaining psychological tools to cope, and someone who writes better than me can capture the despair and dread of realising you're in this situation with no escape from your now torturous thoughts. My first idea was that this is their clearest/earliest memory, and perhaps they think that's due to the fact a good thing happened on that day that they vividly remember, but then later in the story it turns out they remember that day so clearly because they were abused (maybe by a loved one with a well developed character early on in the story?), although I think someone more creative than me can come up with a better reason for why the memory is sinister.	[WP]Someone with racing, obsessive thoughts is told by a therapist to chose their favourite childhood memory and go to this "happy place" whenever they get the obsessions. One day they realise that the reason they chose this memory is a lot more sinister, and the memory turns on them.	[ "My thoughts were racing again, my mind felt like it was a rat in a cage. I shuddered and closed my eyes to go back to my happy place from my childhood like the therapist said to do. My happy place was the steam in the woods. This was were I always went as a child when I was upset, it was the only place that made me feel better and safe.\n\n\n\nI could picture it vividly, a bubbling stream with a soft carpet of green grass and fragrant flowers. Trees making a nice shade and allowing a nice breeze to cool you. Tree frogs calling from the trees sounding like a symphony.\n\n\n\nPicturing this my mind started to calm, my breathing and heart rate slowed. I started to feel better as I kept imagining my favorite memory. When I finally opened my eyes, I was finally calm and back to normal.\n\n\n\n----------\n\n\n\nI had to use this technique again a few hours later. I was back at the flowing stream, this time there were no singing frogs and the place seemed a little darker. I was still able to calm my racing mind.\n\n\n\n------------\n\n\n\nI kept using this technique over the next few days, but each time my imagination made the forest with the stream a little more dark and a little more menacing. The flowers stopped smelling nice, the grass became a little less soft. The trees seemed to become slightly more foreboding.\n\n\n\n------------\n\n\n\nI decided to stop using this technique when my mind raced, because of what happened the last time I imagined happy place. The last time I went there, the memory did everything but calm me. I felt an air of menace surrounding me, even the stream seemed angry in its bubbling. \n\n\n\nEvery thing seemed wrong with my favorite memory. The trees seemed to close in on me, their branches seemed to reach towards me with their skeletal fingers. A chill wind blew through the trees creating a low howling noise. \n\n\n\nThe grass was no longer soft, their once soft blades now cut. I had several cuts on my fingers after I reached down to rub my hand through it. The flowers lining stream were now black and smelt of rotting corpses. \n\n\n\nI opened my eyes and left my memory when I felt I was being watched and heard the low growls from behind me. My mind was still racing and my heart was beating fast.\n\n\n\nI had forgotten the dog, it was rabid and it came upon me in the forest next to the stream. Somehow I had blocked the attack from my memory. I sat down on the floor and started shaking. My mind racing and playing the attack over and over.\n\n\n" ]	1
Basically Jonathan Livingston Seagull afterlives, applied to any useful skill you can think of.	[WP]You spent your whole life working on improving a single skill. After you die you find an afterlife where everyone who did the same ended up.	[ "\"It's not really the most useful skill. More like a parlor trick, like juggling. It's really more a matter of keeping them up in the air than anything else.\"\n\nMy acquaintance was seated in front of a baby grand piano where he had been playing something sad. He had the look like I almost knew him like from a television show but which one I couldn't remember. Bonanza? His face was outlined in the black piano but his voice didn't have the same gravity as his music.\n\n\"That was a sad song, especially the ending. What makes it sad?\" I asked. \n\n\"That's not really for me to say. I just play the music. I agree it's a sad song.\"\n\n\"Let's find a better topic.\"\n\n\"Maybe it's because someone lost something, like a crab's shell. Do crabs grieve over their shells? No?\"\n\n\"But what did they lose?\"\n\n\"Their shell?\"\n\n\"Crabs require shells to exist, to keep the pressure between the fathoms of the ocean and their meaty innards in a proportionate ratio, in other words, to exist. Without a shell a crab wouldn't be much more than a slab of meat in the ocean--\"\n\n\"Or a fish--\"\n\n\"Or a shrimp.\"\n\n\"You should have been a philosopher not a musician\" I said. \n\n\"We're all just instruments. But back to the crab,\"\n\n\"Or a cook. Can you play something on a happier note?\"\n\n\"Not with you here.\"\n\n\"What's that even supposed to mean? This conversation, and I'm sorry to be frank since we hardly even know each other, I felt compelled to say something after I heard your music and it just so happened we met to talk briefly, I promise it won't be too long, but I just wanted to say this whole thing has gotten weird. It's no offense to you, oh no, I just think it's about time I was going.\"\n\n\"Do you want to play?\" he gestured at the piano.\n\nThe room which was angled harshly gave off a cramped vibe, the vertical angles of the room's four corners casting conflicting shadows on the person sitting across the table, my acquaintance, we were the only ones there. His eyes had the same dead sheen as mother-of-pearl and looked gone the way some people do. No entrar. I realized at that moment that he might be blind. His music was superb, not only the music but the silence in between the music, he was a master of silence, and how else can you master the art of silence? With blindness. He seemed to intuitively sense my thoughts.\n\n\"I stared into the sun\" he said. \n\n\"So what's going on here? Am I supposed to be dead?\"\n\n\"That's what the all ask. Orale. Look to the crab.\"" ]	1
	[WP] It is the year 2083, and you are an employee for a small startup shop named Introspect Computer Repair, the first company to use VR to interact with a device's "inner world" and solve problems from the inside. Tell us about your first experience diving into a customer's device.	[ "“This is one of the steps we need to take before we are able actually enter physically into the System”, he said; handing Pandora the headset. “You will be able to visit each of the continents in turn, so that you can look for any coding issues that we may have missed. Any major bugs will need to be reported and addressed before we enable The System. At first, your view will be black; as if you have closed your eyes. When the colour returns, you will find yourself within an identical room, however, it will be completely virtual. Every surface, every person, every bird will be a digital copy of what currently exists.”\n\nPandora turned the headset in her hands. It seemed like nothing more that an elaborate pair of sunglasses, but she knew that with these, she would be able to view the world that she had created. All the hours of slaving behind the console would finally be worth it, and they could finally progress into stage two. Gripping the sides in her hands, Pandora lowered the headset over her eyes.\n\nAs promised, her vision went dark, but after blinking slowly, the room slowly reappeared. However, all of the Committee members were no longer visible; she was alone in the room. Looking around, everything appeared to be the same – the table and its dull metallic sheen, the wooden chairs that squeaked with every slight shift, the echo of her heels bouncing across the empty room as Pandora pushed back the chair and walked to the window. The view looked identical to the one that she was lost in only moments before.\n\nPandora reached up to feel her face, and where her skin should have been, she could feel the soft edge of the visor, yet looking at her opaque reflection, all she could see were her uncovered eyes. It was unbelievable that every sight, smell and sound were identical to the real thing, yet they were nothing more than a collection of digital signals. Placing her fingertips under the edge of the glasses, Pandora lifted them up and off her eyes.\n\nBlinking once more, the Committee members reappeared in front of her. “That was incredible, I’m extremely impressed. So what’s next?”\n\nThe man across the table reached out his hand to take the headset back. “Once we are able to create a direct link into the System, you will be able to move freely whilst remaining in place; you will be able to interact directly with the environment and all of its digital inhabitants.”\n\nPandora looked around the room as she pondered what to do next. There was an air of urgency filling the room, as if there was an electric energy buzzing between all the members. She stood and faced the members, taking in the beginning of what would be her ticket back into Universe 1, and if not, well, she would cross that bridge if it came to that.\n\n“Well everyone, I believe it’s time to begin…”\n" ]	1
	[WP] You have the ability to step into a mirror world, where everything is exactly the same except there are no animals or people. You use this ability for your own selfish gains, but one day you find out why there is nothing else in that other world.	[ "You stare at your hands, stuck in the same frame of a movie. A thousand pieces of shattered glass. Time is time which will always be time. A moment saved in perpetuum.\n\nYou know this man. You've read his story, studied his death. For eighteen years, his home has been your playground. Trinkets from past friends litter the streets. Weeks after your fifteenth birthday, you hung a shirt from a tree. It was unwearable, covered in the blood of your best friend. She had died after falling out a tree, her waist having been cut on the way down. The panic and pain you felt then, it's nothing compared to now.\n\nA frozen body. A mouth curled into unspeakable horror, blood casually etched into the wrinkles of their lips. Skin melting off muscle melting off bone. You've ventured too far, but there is no retreat. His vocal cords squelch as he tells you the truth.\n\nPain so unbearable, so unheard of, that the universe split. You were born the exact second the Tokaimura nuclear accident occurred. He let you in, if only for someone to benefit from his eternity, and for years, it worked. However, he watched carefully as you developed.\n\nGetting away with murder is easy, if you can hide everything away. A rotting man doesn't mind sharing his grave, but he requests something else from you. Something from you that paralyzes you to the bone.\n\nHow do you kill something that is already dead? How do you kill someone who is practically a god?", "It had been years since he'd first learned of his ability, that day when he accidentally walked into a full length mirror while on his phone and was instead met with a cold sensation instead of a thud was nothing more than a memory at this point. He didn't know what this world was, it was exactly like his world except dead. There were no people or animals, the times he came through at night there wasn't even the sound of cicadas or any other insects for that matter. It was a desolate world where life was gone except for the plant life which was slowly reclaiming the signs of human civilization. thankfully mirrors seemed untouched for some unknown reason allowing his travel in and out of this world. He'd used it to spy on people, steal, etc. you know the normal stuff. He did wonder what this world was, he'd read something about alternate universes so just figured it was one of those.\n\nRichard sat in the dilapidated house looking into the bedroom mirror, in his world the wife was putting on makeup for their night out as the husband fetched something from their lock\\-box under the bed. BINGO! He was able to get a good enough look to see what the combo was so now all he had to do was wait. After they left and had been gone for some time he pulled himself through the mirror into the dark bedroom not caring as he knocked over the items under it. He pulled the lock\\-box out from under the bed and entered the combination. inside they kept a lot of papers like birth certificates, the deed to the house, etc. but that was not what he was interested in. He pulled out the bond certificates and \"rainy\\-day\" cash. Got it, now to take anything else valuable that he could carry\\-\n\n\"I'll be right back!\"\n\nit was the sound of the husband's voice from a couple rooms away. DAMN! they must have come back for something. He rushed to the mirror and stopped for a second, there was someone in the corner of the room behind him! He whirled around but the figure was gone, he checked the mirror and they weren't there either. He didn't have much time to think about it as footsteps were coming towards the bedroom door. He hopped through the mirror and stopped to catch his breath. In the real world the husband had found the mess he made and was upset but Richard didn't care there wasn't a way to track him. Before he left he decided to see if there was a lock box here as well. sure enough there was under the moldy bed. he entere the combination and opened it only to find a handgun and a note inside. that's odd.\n\nDick unfolded the note and read it:\n\n\"Dear Marian\n\nI don't know where you went or if I will see you again. As the news and the world gets worse I hope that I will find out what is happening and thus what happened to you. There's panic now as the government has been trying to collect or smash mirrors but they won't budge or break. Even after they dropped a nuke on LA after most of the people there were gone the mirrors were still standing. I don't know what to do, they said that when you see the shadow people in the reflection it means they're coming for you. Well I saw it today, I don't know how long I have. Will they take me to you? perhaps this is a misunderstanding and they are taking us to a better place like the preachers on tv have been saying. I don't know but I all I do know is that if you come back and i'm gone, know that I will always love you.\n\nyour cuddly bear Charles\"\n\nDick didn't know what to make of it, he'd always assumed that this world had died because of a virus or something like that. What was this about indestructible mirrors and shadow people? Like the one you saw before entering the mirror? He shook the thought out of his head. He grabbed the gun to trade later and started to leave when he had a thought. Out of curiosity he checked the gun to make sure it was still in working condition and shot it at the mirror. Two things happened at once, the loud bang it the enclosed space was deafening and the bullet must have bounced off the mirror because it struck the wall behind him. With his ears ringing he checked the mirror and didn't see so much as a scratch on it.\n\n\"holy shit!\"\n\nHe hurried back to the mirror he'd come in at. All the way having the gun within reach and jumping at every shadow. The sun was setting so there were a lot of shadows from the ruined buildings and it was making him paranoid. He crossed the street looking both ways out sheer force of habit since there were no cars except the rotting ones. That's when he noticed it, a silhouette in the distance. The figure was odd because they were walking on their arms, it was then that he noticed they were doing that because they had no legs! He didn't stay to chat he just ran fast as he could. He almost reached the mirror when he felt something grab his shoulder. He tried to grab the gun but it spun out of his hands. As Dick tried to fight the figure he noticed in his panicked state that their skin was smooth. It's head lurked over him the figure was smooth and shiny as if made out of clear water or glass. However the most frightening thing was that it's reflection was his face but one with the eyelids and lips torn off glaring almost gleefully at him. Dick screams were cut short as the figure smashed it's head down on him and all that was left was blackness.\n\nCharles was on the phone with the police after checking the house with his gun and not finding the intruder. The fact that they were able to get in so, open his lockbox, and get out so quickly had him both puzzled and furious. The dispatcher said that the police would be right there. He thanked her and looked down to hang up. When he looked up he was facing his wife's makeup and there was a figure on the other side of the room, completely pitch black despite the room being fully lit. Charles let out a yell in surprise then spun around grabbing at the handgun at his waist only to see no one there. He hurriedly checked the room but couldn't find a trace of the figure he saw. \n\nHis wife came rushing to the bedroom door \"Charles are you alright? what happened?!\"\n\n\"I'm alright Marian.\" He said as he rubbed his eyes \"thought I saw something but I guess it's just the stress getting to me.\"\n\nShe came over and embraced him \"thank god, the money is just money but I don't know what I'd do if something happened to my cuddly bear.\"\n\nCharles grinned, he hated that nickname but never tell her that. \"come on, lets go wait for the police outside.\"\n\nAfter they both left the room no one was there to see a reflective arm reach out of the mirror." ]	2
	[WP] She says its time to let him go, time to unplug.	[ "\"There has to be something else we can do. Something we haven't thought of. Something...\" the voice trails off. The voice was tired; from stress, from working long hours, from staying up for too long fueled by coffee and the occasional 5 minute lunch break that ends 4 minutes early. \n\n\"We've tried everything Amy. We've gone through years of knowledge. This...this might be a losing battle.\" a second voice replied. She sounded just as tired; the two had fought and pushed their skill beyond its limit. \n\n\"I know Karen. I know. I know, I know I know I...just want something to work. This...this is frustrating! I want to yell. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I just want...I just want something to work...\" Amy answered. She sat down against a wall, head in hands. \"Okay, okay, okay. So what have we tried? Let's...lets start from the beginning.\"\n\n\"Problems started popping up maybe a year ago. Slower to respond, memory loss. Temperature would fluctuate too; spikes when he was awake too long. We had to replace some vitals. A month ago, he'd become unresponsive. Couldn't do some scans because we'd hit roadblocks.\" Karen said. She sighed and looked over at him. He was resting peacefully, the machined hooked up to him softly whirring. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.\n\n\"He's just...so young. Not even...not even 5 years old. He...he had so much more to experience!\" Amy's voice was cracking. She was close to tears. \"He...he was mine! I'm just...tired.\"\n\n\"We tried everything we could. We even got a hold of specialists. If we can't fix him and they couldn't fix him, then...\" Karen's voice weakened. She sat beside her friend and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. \"I think...I think its time to let him go, time to unplug.\"\n\nAmy made a sound as if in protest. She wanted to speak, to argue, to keep this going for just a bit longer until they could find the fix. She looked down silently.\n\n\"At this point, he isn't the same...he's different now. His death...he can help others like him. He'll live on...in them.\" Karen said. Her voice was gentle, comforting. It was what Amy needed. \n\nAmy took a deep breath before standing up. \"You're right. He...he would want this. He always liked when I'd play games with heroes. He'd...he'd love to be a hero.\" Amy approached him and, stifling a cry, pulled the plug keeping him alive. She sniffled a bit before bending down and giving him a gentle kiss. She remained looking at him for a moment before turning back to Karen.\n\n\"You always remember your first PC.\" Karen told Amy with a smile. " ]	1
	[WP] Canadians are patient, kind, and understanding creatures who would never harm a fly. That all goes out the window when they have to deal with Canadian geese.	[ "Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,\n\nKnees knocking, terrified, we ran through the city\n\nAs the demonic geese pecked at our backs\n\nGiving no respite, showing no pity.\n\nMen fell behind, shoving their families on\n\nAs they were lost to the heartless swarm.\n\nCovered in down, praying for dawn\n\nWe begged to be delivered from harm.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nGeese! GEESE! Quick, boys! - gloved hands went fumbling,\n\nFitting the hockey masks just barely in time,\n\nBut Ryan still was yelling and stumbling\n\nLike a man trying to find the beer garden line.\n\nDim through the foggy morn and haze of war,\n\nUnder the weight of a thousand geese I saw him drowning.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIn all my dreams since that first battles night\n\nHe reaches for me, begging, falling, drowning.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nThen, as in a dream, we heard the race\n\nOf hoofbeats closing fast upon us\n\nAnd saw the firm and fearless face\n\nOf moose cavalry come to save us.\n\nThe red and tan of man and mount\n\nMet blood-eyed swarm of frenzied goose\n\nAnd sword and antler struck about\n\nAs birds fell before man and trusty moose.\n\nMy friend, for them who do fight best\n\nAnd save us from the feathered fiend\n\nRemember: dulce et decorum est\n\na beaver tail and poutine." ]	1
	[WP] You are the chosen one, or at least thats what the general public thinks of you, in reality you're just a public figure that politicians use to make the public think they're doing something about the evil dark lord, lately though you've decided to actually try defeating the dark lord.	[ "The crowd cheered as I paraded down the main street. The castle loomed heavily in the distance, its dark shadow creeping ever nearer. I stood tall, my sword at the ready. I turned to the growing crowd behind me.\n\n\"For too long, Phazod had terrorized the people of this great nation. Many have faced him, but none have been able to succeed...until today. I, with the gifts of the gods, will destroy this vile foe and save us all!\"\n\nThe mob burst into cheers at these words, and I valiantly turned and pushed open the doors to the castle. The doors swung shut behind me, and the cheering was muted. I exhaled sharply, slumping to the floor.\n\nWhat am I doing? The thought crept into my mind, not for the first time in my life. I had been \"on the job\" for just over a year now. When Governor Melby called me into his office back then, I was just a meek, young man. He talked about having a \"rags to riches story,\" a boy chosen by the gods to take down the growing evil.\n\nI remember saying something about how I knew nothing about fighting and had never been chosen by the gods. Melby replied with, \"Of course you haven't. But no one needs to know that. We're working on the actual work. You just need to look good and make the people love you. You get the adoration, we get a little bit of time to work. Everyone wins.\"\n\nI took the deal, unable to find a flaw in his logic. Over the year, I had bulked up to the point where I felt like a real hero. I wasn't going to lie, it went to my head. So it was that I stood in front of Governor Melby again a week ago.\n\nHe looked aghast. \"You want to fight Phazod? No. No, that is not happening. We aren't close enough to a solution.\"\n\n\"Then let me be the solution. I can take him. I've gotten tougher, and imagine the goodwill if I can do what you've been saying I can do.\"\n\nMelby thought for a long minute, his hands steepled over his mouth. Finally, he spoke. \"Fine, do what you must. We will do everything we can to help.\"\n\nMy mind slowly came back to the present. I got to my feet, sheathing my sword. I crept through the castle slowly until I reached a large, well lit hall.\n\nThe man sitting at the far end of the hall did not look like a evil being. He looked like a guy about my age, leaner than I was, but still strong from what I could see. He stood, clad in armor similar to mine, and addressed me. \"So, this is the latest mighty hero that the gods sent to kill me? You look weaker than the last one. The gods must really be scraping at the bottom of the barrel.\"\n\nA feeling of rage washed over me, and I charged at the man, swinging wildly. \"How DARE you insult the gods! You are nothing but a parasite, feasting on the life of our nation!\"\n\nPhazod lithely dodged the punches, then counted with heavy chops to the shoulders. \"Ooh, a rousing insult. Tell me, did Melby write that for you himself?\"\n\nI shrugged off the blows and ducked low, connecting with a gut punch. Our battle continued for several minutes, our skills closely matched. Finally, after a strong combination of blows, I swung in a wide arc, and was rewarded with my fist smashing into the side of his head. Phazod crumpled to the floor, and I stuck a knee into his chest, hovering to make the final blow.\n\nPhazod spat a bloody glob onto the floor and looked at me balefully. \"So...Governor Melby hired you to take me down. Would have been nice if had called me to let me know first.\"\n\nI paused, my bruised fist raised. \"Call you? Why would he do that?\"\n\nPhazod chuckled. \"You really think I'm some evil monster? I'm as much a bad guy as you are a good guy. The government hired me on a few years back to take on the role.\"\n\nI lowered my fist. \"Why? Why would they do that?\"\n\n\"To keep the people in line, of course. Bad guys like me keep the citizens scared so they look to the government, while good guys like you make sure they have enough faith so that they don't revolt.\"\n\nMy head swam for a few seconds, and I slumped to the floor for the second time that day. Things started to make sense. Melby had not wanted me to take part in the actual fight; they just wanted me to play the pretty boy so the townsfolk could eat it all up.\n\nI spoke, my words ragged in my throat. \"So what do we do then?\"\n\nThe man I knew as Phazod chuckled. \"Well, we can either keep fighting right now...or we can team up and take over. I'd love to see Melby's face when we burst through his door and beat him to a pulp.\"\n\nI thought over my options for a while, then got to my feet and stretched out my hand. Phazod grabbed my hand and I pulled him to his feet. We held our hands tightly and shook.\n\n\"All right, so what's the plan?\"\n\n/u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker: 35/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!" ]	1
	[WP] Your new neighbour is quiet, reserved and very private. One day, you hear a strange noise and notice odd lights from his/her back garden, and when you look you see him/her appear from those lights. He/she is a time traveller.	[ "\\- Khhrkh! Bzooooot! Wooooee!\n\nHe was awoken by strange noises.\n\n\\- Eeeoooo! Vvrevrevre! - the rather unusual soundscape continued to drill through his inner ear and into his brain. The noise at first seemed to come from a broken vacuum cleaner, but it quickly disolved into static and other unrecognisable noises.\n\n\\- What the bloody h... - he opened the curtains in his bedroom. He was prepared to shout \"Woźniak, shut your goddamn whatever the fuck it is and let people sleep for once\". But he didn't. He was indeed, rather suprised to find out that there was light flickering everywhere. And it wasn't coming from Woźniak's home. He ran out of his house, ready to investigate what was happening, with a phone in his hand to call the cops on whichever neighboor who caused him to wake up from his well-earned sleep. Again, he was rather suprised to find that all the noise, all the lights and all the public disturbance came from the back garden of Alicja Zawadzka. - Zawadzka! - he thought to himself, thrilled to discover that the only neighboor who he deemed as sane has just came out as a fan of waking people up with noisy electro music (or maybe it was random noises? He didn't really notice a difference). His shock came from the fact that she was a quiet person, rather reserved to herself. He's certainly never seen anyone outside her enter her residence. She was a new neighboor, but still. He moved down the sidewalk and into her house.\n\nHe knocked.\n\nThe strange lights stopped flickering and the weird noises stopped being a nuisance.\n\nShe opened the door.\n\n\\- Miss Zawadzka, do you know what time it is? 3 o'clock. In the morning! Please, have mercy over your neighboors!\n\nHer face has gone completely red. Her eyes pointed up to the sky, then down to the ground, on a nearby tree, on Mr. Wawrzyk's face, again on the sky and finally on his face.\n\n\\-I... - she started, stuttering a bit - I am really sorry for the disturbance. You heard everything?\n\n\\- Well, I'm pretty sure that everyone within 20 kilometers from there has heard... whatever was that.\n\n\\- I can explain it! But maybe not now, as you noticed that is really a late hour. Would you mind coming in for a cofee this afternoon?\n\n(I'll finish that tomorrow, don't beat me for that - and I know it's crappy, I'm new, let me off ;) )" ]	1
	[WP] You provide tech support for authors. Not for computer problems, but for writing problems.	[ "Hello, you've reached Writing Woes. How can I help you?\n\nEr, yeah. I'm stuck.\n\nStuck how, sir?\n\nWith my writing idea.\n\nOh, okay. What is wrong with it?\n\nI don't have one.\n\nAh, I see. Have you tried turning it off and on again?\n\nMy computer's working fine. How would that help?\n\nNo, sir, your brain. Take a break or a nap and come back to it. You may be surprised with the results.\n\nOkay, thank you.\n\nNo problem.\n\nClick\n\n\\-\n\n4 hours later.\n\n\\-\n\nHello, you've reached Writing Woes. How can I help you?\n\nYeah it's me again.\n\nWho is 'me', sir? I take a lot of calls.\n\nThe guy who couldn't think of an idea. That narrow it down?\n\n\\<Sighs\\> A little, I suppose.\n\nWell anyway, it didn't help.\n\nWhat didn't?\n\nYour advice.\n\nOh, I'm sorry to hear that.\n\nWell?\n\nWell what?\n\nWell what do you intend to do about it?\n\nWell what would you like me to do about it?\n\nYou getting fresh with me, kid?\n\nPerish the thought, sir.\n\nCut the crap. Help me make an idea.\n\nIt's your idea to make. I really don't see how \\-\n\nYou dumb and deaf? Help me make an idea.\n\nIf you insist, sir. I think we'll start with a protagonist. A man, if you will, who is filled with lofty ambitions.\n\nOkay.\n\nHe is a painter, determined to make his mark on the annals of artistic legend. He wants to be the greatest, but there is just one problem.\n\nWhat's that?\n\nHe can't think of anything to paint.\n\nWhy?\n\nBecause he's shit, presumably.\n\nPresumably?\n\nEr, nevermind. So the story should centre around his slowly fracturing sanity as he struggles with his misplaced hubris, all the while his mind continues to wallow in eternal ineptitude, never allowing an original idea to form in his simple brain.\n\nWow, kid, I like your thinking. So what should happen in the end?\n\nI just drew you a picture, fill the rest in yourself. Oh, and try to stay between the lines.\n\nClick\n\n\\-\n\nr/ShittyStoryCreator :\\)" ]	1
	[WP] "Oh, and everyone likes horses, right? Ponies and all that prancy garbage. Thing is, here, if you come across a white horse turn around and walk away. Don't go toward it. Don't even look at it. Because if you do, it will try to get you on its back and it will drown you."	[ "They call it a white nightmare, not only because of their fetish for wordplay but also because the description is rather accurate. I wish I was aware of this before I found out first hand.\n\nIt was my first time in the land of enchantment and I was warned that unsavory characters here were far more dangerous than the ones in my world. The only reason why I was there was because I freed the shadow of a troll and the only way he could reward me is if I was in his home. He took me through the secret passage and brought me to the outskirts of the forest. He informed me that the forest is vert densely populated with all types of personified beings but I would be able to notice as well because I'm perceiving it as a human. He motioned down to pick some mushrooms that he said would momentarily grant me enchantment, as long as I stayed within the realm I'd be a creature like them. As soon as he reached to pick some it trotted by. It was such a magnificent creature. I mistook it for a unicorn and first but I noted that it had no horn. It was fully fleshed and well muscled with a lustrous pelt that shimmered in the sunlight. It pranced in circles around me and the troll who was preoccupied with finding mushrooms that wouldn't poison me, apparently there were a few that would turn me into a zombie but it was very difficult to tell the difference between the two. The White Nightmare continued to trot and prance, entrancing me with it's beautiful glowing body. It came close and knelt before me as if offering a ride, a notion which a giddily accepted. I clambered on and immediately took off speeding across the land as the troll's alarmed and drawn out protest faded away in the distance until there was nothing but the sound of hooves pounding on the grassland. To this day I can still hear him....\n\n\"NNNNNNOOOOOOOoooooooooooo!!\"\n\nThe ride was wild and exhilarating. I was so intoxicated with delight and excitement that I didn't even notice when we crossed the sandy shores, forded the high tide and plunged into the briny depths of the ocean. Only looking back on it while free of the spell do I realize the imminent danger, but at the time I was oblivious and jolly. Slowly, as I began to feel the discomfort in my lungs I started to recognize the situation I was in. My grandmother had told me tales of jealous sea creatures and such that I never believed were true. Always trying to steal away land dwellers and drown them. Sirens, who would sing such beautiful songs that sailors were encouraged to venture closer, unknowingly running their ships on jagged rocks and shipwrecking themselves. Mermaids, who would pose as drowning women waiting for an unaware sailor to help so they can pull them to a watery grave. On land mermaids grew legs, and would often attempt to lure unsuspecting victims into the sea. When I was younger I laughed at this one, the Sinister Seahorse of the Sirens, the Mischievous Mare of the Mermaids, the White Nightmare, the creature that was currently killing me. By this time I was aware of the immediate threat but I was still having the time of life, whooping and hollering away the precious air out my lungs into bubbles that would never return to me, an effect of its magic. I was fortunate. The troll I had been with before was a clever and quick thinking creature. He had a respectable friendship with a local shapeshifter who had lended aid in chasing down the horse that carried me away, eventually saving me from becoming another victim of the sea. The fact that I got to live another day was to be my reward. This was made very clear to me by both the shapeshifter and the troll before I was sent back to my homeworld where enchantment is nothing but a myth. As dangerous as it may have been, it was the most exciting horseback ride I've ever been on in ny life", "My mother rode a white horse,\n\nInto the endless sea,\n\nAnd I rode a white Bronco,\n\nTo her eulogy.\n\nMy mother rode a white horse, \n\nThat broke her neck that night,\n\nAnd it is all white noise,\n\nScreaming in my ear.\n\nAnd I drowned in white smoke,\n\nIt was everything I feared, \n\nMy mother waved a white flag,\n\nAnd gave up in the end.\n\nI set free those white doves,\n\nTo help me find a friend.\n\nAnd Death rides a white horse,\n\nTo lead us back to God,\n\nMy mother rode a white horse, \n\nRight into the sea, \n\nMy mother rode that white horse, \n\nher demons, her kelpie. " ]	2
	[WP] You have super powers, but every time the city needs saving, you're sick in bed.	[ "The door to the bank's vault tumbled through the city streets, leaving a wake of crushed cars and fluttering dollar bills. The nefarious Dr. Deadlift hoisted a pallet of gold bars weighing hundreds of pounds above his head. He cackled with glee as a hail of bullets bounced harmlessly off of his chest. He strode easily out of the massive hole he'd made in the bank's wall, his footfalls setting off countless car alarms. \"Just what I need to decorate my Waiting Room of Doom! HAHAHAHAHAHA!\"\n\n\"Is there no hope? Is there no light at the end of the tunnel? Who will help us wake up from this nightmare?\" pleaded the local anchorman. \n\n\"Definitely not El Campeón, amigo,\" I said. I turned off the TV. My golden luchador mask, utility belt, golden boots, and Cape of The Feathered Serpent lay in a crumpled pile next to the hamper. Dr. Deadlift was a complete cabron \\- I'd beaten him when I was just Don Julio, the owner of a humble Mexican restaurant that served generous portions at affordable prices. The guy wasn't even a real doctor \\- he was just a research assistant that took a bunch of growth hormone and went insane. He tried to hold up my restaurant, La Cocina Tolteca, but I beat him so soundly that people began to ask questions. I told them it was my diet rich in lean proteins and regular exercise that allowed me to toss him bodily across the street and definitely not the golden amulet passed down from Moctezuma hanging around my neck. \n\nMy wife had stitched the costume just before she took the kids to her parents' place and said she'd never see me again. Cheating on her with her sister, in retrospect, was a huge mistake. To her credit, she didn't take the costume, the amulet, or anything from the till. I tried to apologize, but it was no use. I'd broken her heart, and it was my fault. \n\nI'd considered ripping the costume up and getting a new one, but I could never bring myself to do it. She'd custom\\-made this thing and it fit like a second skin. The cape alone was incredible \\- red, green, and white chevrons of fabric overlapping one another from underneath two epaulets decorated with golden skulls. It gave me a menacing silhouette, but not so menacing that it frightened kids. You can't destroy something made with so much love without destroying a part of yourself.\n\nAnd so it gathered dust in my closet. I'd tell myself that I had bad knees, a cold, a stomach virus, but it was all mierda del toro. The Amulet of Moctezuma rendered the wearer invincible, giving him or her the strength of the jaguar, swiftness of the eagle, and the cunning of the feathered serpent. When I was wearing that amulet, I couldn't get sick if I wanted to. I could twist a steel girder like a pretzel. I could outrun motorcycle speeding down a highway. I could solve a Rubix cube with both hands tied behind my back and wearing a sack over my head. \n\nBut I didn't. I didn't want to. Putting that costume on just reminded me that I was a scumbag. I didn't deserve to be something that incredible. How could I be, when I couldn't even be a good husband and father? \n\nI turned the TV back on. The news was still reporting on Dr. Deadlift, but something was different. Dr. Deadlift had dropped the gold and seized my wife under his arm. He'd grabbed a camera from a local news crew and was trying to communicate with me.\n\n\"This message is for Don Julio, of Don Julio's Cochina Azteca, or whatever the hell you call it. If you're not in City Square within the next hour, I'm going to murder your wife on live TV!\"\n\nThe signal cut out. The local news anchors sat in their chairs, stupefied. I'd never gotten dressed faster in my life. \n\nDr. Deadlift was in the process of trying to teach my wife English when I showed up. \"Repeat after me... my name is...\"\n\nShe spat in his face. \n\n\"Drop her, Deadlift!\" I rounded a corner and struck the pose. Man, this costume was awesome. \n\n\"But she needs to learn English if she's going to live here in the United States!\"\n\n\"Lo siento, mi amor. Necesito algunos minutos con el Doctor.\" I said. She nodded. \n\n\"Hey, no fair, what did you say to...\" said Dr. Deadlift. He never got to finish his sentence, since my boots had planted themselves in his face. Esmeralda tumbled sideways, out of harm's way, while Dr. Deadlift went flying into a brick wall. \n\nHe'd barely recovered when I grabbed his foot and flailed him like a ragdoll, over and over, into the unforgiving pavement. \"IT'S...NOT...POLITE...TO...BE...CRUEL...TO...PEOPLE...WHO...ARE...DIFFERENT!\" \n\nThe doctor lay in a crater in the road, moaning and probably needing medical attention from an actual professional. \n\nI gingerly picked Esmeralda up, and tried to remove my mask. She pulled it down, and kissed me. Then, she pulled away and said: \"This doesn't change what happened between us, but I am glad you're here. I think we need to see a counselor before we make any further steps.\"\n\nI agreed. She blew a kiss goodbye as a throng of reporters and people with cellphones descended on me." ]	1
	[WP] You have the ability to steal other people’s powers, and you’ve used it to devastating effect, becoming the cruelest super-villain the world has ever seen. One day you steal powers from a super-empath, causing you to feel all the suffering you have wrought.	[ "Power. Something I needed. Something I had. Something I could take. Something I craved. I craved the power to do as I wished. And so I took it. I took all of it. The power to fly. The power to heal. The power to be completely invincible. I took it all, and made it mine. And I laughed. Oh, did I laugh. To watch the now powerless struggle against me was truly a joy. I was a god among men. No. Less than men. Less than the smallest ant against the glory of my power. There was nothing I could not do. Nothing I could not take. Not even Death himself could stop me.\n\nI lined up the supposedly \"gifted\" like so much cattle. Taking every last bit of power from them. Speed from that boy. Strength from that girl. They belonged to me, after all. I permitted them to live. What good is a god without those to worship them? Perhaps these powers would amuse me for a bit. I doubted it. I had not seen something new in close to a millennium. And yet... Perhaps that child, with the terrified look in his eyes? What did he possess? I shall take it from him regardless. Oh? That was indeed a new power. I... feel? I feel the hate of those surrounding me. I feel their fear, their disgust. I feel their sorrow, their pain, for all that I have done to them. It is... an assault of emotions upon me. I can feel every little thing that I have wrought upon these souls...\n\nAnd it is delicious.", "I could absorb powers. It was what i was good at. It was how i became the best in my field. I was the best super in world, to date. And i got here by taking the powers of others, and using them to help me. I started small, slowly toppling cities, and taking control of them. I slowly absorbed more and more superpowers as my reign grew bigger. Within a few years, i started toppling governments, and becoming the ruler of countries. As i did more research into how my powers, i found out it was in my blood. My DNA and Bio electricity was how i was absorbing the powers. My Bio electricity could take a sample of my opponent's power, and there was something in my own DNA that absorbed strands of DNA or parts of that strand that my body seemed beneficial. \n\nThere i was, going out for another day of 'Murder Mystery' where i would find people's power, and take them. I had finally found another power i was looking for. An empath, someone who could sense what other people was feeling. If i could get that power, i could get more power's easier. I could sense what they were feeling, what their weakness was, and then take their powers. \n\nAfter tracking the empath's house down, i waited till nightfall. No need to have a full on fight, I just needed a very slight amount of my bio electricity to touch them, and it didn't matter if they were awake. \n\nIt was close to midnight, before i tried going in, and shocking them. I sneaked into their house, and searched for their room. After a near minute of searching i found where they were sleeping. I quietly shocked them, with what must have felt like static shock. My brain felt a rush and warm tingle go across it. My body had accepted the DNA, and i knew it was only minutes before my body would collapse, and start rewriting my whole genetic code. I quietly sneaked back out, and hightailed it back to where i lived. \n\nIt seemed like a dump on the outside, and nobody noticed it, but the inside's where it really shined. It had an elevator to a basement, filled with the latest and greatest technologies available to me. When you secretly ran the world, with people on the lookout for you, for the destruction caused, it paid to have good equipment. \n\nAs i made my way to the basement, my vision started tunneling. I had around a minute before i collapsed. I started to feel slightly dizzy, as i stumbled out of the elevator. I started walking over to my bed, which i put close to the door for this very reason. I collapsed, and slept, for hours. \n\nFinally after 12 hours, i woke up again, with my body able to sense people's feeling. My brain instinctively able to turn it on and off at will. I went and grabbed the hangover remedy that helped rid the jitters, headache, and nausea that came with absorbing people's power. I slowly make my way outside, and flicked on the empathy. I was instantly bombarded with suffering, pain, and hatred. People seemed to be loathing with what seemed like an intense focus on me, and nothing else. I staggered and quickly turned it off. The mere seconds of exposure to that, left me mentally tired, and weary. \n\nI went back into my house, and stayed inside for days. I had always thought i was doing good, helping people, by getting rid of the evil in the world. Helping them by removing regimes, and other types of governments that oppressed people. It seemed that there was intense hatred where there should have been appreciation, friendliness, and love. It was true. You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I had become the villain, while i thought i was the hero. I couldn't keep doing this. I couldnt keep going down a path where people hated me. I need to rectify the mess i made of myself. I will leave the face of this planet, and hope that everything turns out for the best. \n\n-- 30 years later-- \nReading the newspaper, the headline stating, \"3 Decades since Megalomaniac, and super-villian, Agent Orange left the spotlight, and went into hiding.\"", "\"Empath? Ha! What kind of stupid power is that\" \n\n\"More than you'll ever have\" my miserable squirming prisoner squeeked out.\n\n\"Is that so?\" I plunged my hand into his chest and gripped his soul. \"There isnt a fucken thing i can't have in this world you pathetic insect\" i said looking him in the eye. I jerked my hand back holding his glowing essence in my hand, I loved the feeling of ripping another soul another power and holding it if just got a second to fully understand it's power. I shoved the glowing ball into my own chest almost instantly falling down to my knees. I fainted.\n\n\"Where am I?!\" I boomed my voice.\"Hello?!\" Nothing responded just black dark coldness. Then a fog moved in i saw it even though it was pitch black, this was not my powers though this was something else.\n\n\"Dean?\" I heard my mother calm from behind me, but thats not right my mom is dead. \"How could you do this?\" Her voice became more scratchy, more dead. I turned around and the scene that started it all, the day i discovered my power, lay before me in its entirety. Everything just how i remember it the dead neighbor boy lying in the street his soul sucking in to my body. In only a matter of seconds i exploded like a ton of dinomite sending splinters and rocks and metal everywhere. When the smoke cleared youthful innocent me just stoos there unnaware of the trajedy and nightmare he just created. \n\n\"Mum?\" I said a tear running down my young face. I refused to watch it a second time but i couldnt look away. There she was in the back wall of what was left of the kitchen a wooden wall board stuck through her stomach or rather almost vompletely cutting her in half. This is how it started this is when i lost all feeling or at least buried it deep inside not to come out for centuries. \n\nThe scene evaporated like sand in the wind. Except there was no wind and there was no sand beforehand or afterwards. Then something else started to form in the thick fog. It was a silhouette and another and another. They kept coming, faces i recognised and faces i didn't all crying or in pain or angry. They all stared at me not saying a word just kind of looking intently at me actually at my chest. I stared to glow. The glowing souls started to exit my body leaving some suck awful feeling behind. Each soul stopping above one of the sad peoples heads. This happened for hours slowly crippling me. \n\nOnce the souls stopped leaving i was able to stand still in awful pain, but able to stand. As i looked into the crowd of sad people every single one of them had a sould above them as far as the eye could see. There was even one above my head. All the people wispered something into their soul and one by one thwir sould shot back into me, and when it did the person would disappear.\n\nThis process was much shorter but infinitely more painful i looked up there was one more person, but instead of wisper to a souls like the others he walked up to me. It was him the empath.\n\n\"How do you like empathy?\" \n\n\"What have yoy done insect?!\"\n\n\"I have given you humanity. What have YOU done?\"\n\nHe then whispered to his soul and it crammed its way into my chest like all the others. \n\nI woke up on the ground all my men around me. I look at them but i di nit see them nor anything else. \"Hello?\" One of my men walked up to me i could hear him but j could not see him.\n\n\"Sir you've gone blind we're taking care of you\"\n\nI quickly understood why thia was the case. Then something weirder happened, I cried. No man has seen me cry not for at least 700 years but I wept and could not stop. I wept and the fog returned in my mind i saw the first face to come from the fog, and i heard him whisper.\n\n\"Tenth grade, the woodchipper\", I remembered he is where I got my regenerative properties. \n\nThe next came up, \"Last year, charge of Stagrlon\"\n\nPerson after person came up to me their faces the only thing i could see. The only thing to tell me a time and a location or a way or anything that would let me know exactly how they died. This seemes like an eternity, but when I came back to it had been less then a second. I felt them i felt their pain. I remembered more every second new faces with times like \"twenty five seconds ago\" or \"just now\".\n\nI feel more then their pain i feel their suffering, their fear, their feeling of abandonment, their feeling of worthlesness. It had to stop, but how? This guilt, this empathy ate at me like a lion tears at the flesh of a dead gazelle but also like a mouse nibbling on cheese. Slow bit massive chunks takem from me. Who was I? Why do i do these thing? Why did it all turn out this way? ", " I had never intended for any of this to happen when I first discovered that I had the gift of theft, but what else could I do? The people of the world called me cruel; the cruelest they had ever seen. I stole the powers of their idols, and made their cities burn.\n\n\n\nBut from the ashes comes utopia. When I stole the gift of future sight from The Third Eye, I saw the path we were on, all the destruction and death that lay in humanity's wake. The constant fighting and warring, for what? God, king, country? The people needed to be united.\n\n\n\nHate drives people apart, but it can also bring them together. People can put aside their differences, and bond over a mutual hatred. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say. And so I gave them all an enemy. I never intended to hurt any of them. The first death was an accident that replays every goddamn night when I close my eyes; the thousandth, the millionth, the billionth, are all meaningless to me. Everything I ever did was for them. Why could they not see that?\n\n\n\nOnce the \"heroes\" learned they couldn't stop me, they went off into hiding. They were selfish. Rather than make an attempt to use their powers to stop me, they ran with their tails between their legs, and ignored their duties to the people they swore to protect.\n\n\n\nAnd then, it was over. Nobody stood in my way. There were no more gods, kings, or countries. And yet, still the people fought amongst themselves. All I had worked for, my efforts to bring them together were for nothing. And all at once, my future sight activated, and showed me a vision. The only way to bring them salvation, was through death. And so the hunt began. With each colony I crushed beneath my heel, I grew stronger, as I stole the powers of those within it.\n\n\n\nI was a glutton. Each power I came across, I absorbed and warped into my own. Except for one. It was a small fishing village in the northern seas where I met my downfall. She was young, no more than ten. She stood at the gates of the village as I approached. \n\n\n\n\"I'm sure you know why I'm here!\" I bellowed. \"You all knew this day would come. Keep your eyes closed, and it will all be over quickly.\"\n\n\n\nShe simply closed her eyes and stood still in front of me.\n\n\n\nI raised my arms and began to absorb any powers within range, and the girl who stood before me collapsed. And as her power ensnared itself within me, I did too.\n\n\n\nAs my body writhed on the ground, a billion voices echoed within my head. The screams of all those I had killed, and the sobs of the people they had left behind. I felt the weight of a mother burying her children in shallow graves, knowing that she too would soon suffer their fate. I felt all the fathers who rushed towards me in vain attempts to keep their families safe, knowing they might never see them again. And it was within the chaos that I realized something: the world my future sight had shown me of death and destruction was not one that I was to prevent, but one I was to create. Despite their bickering, the people could come together, not out of hate, but love. My path would never lead to utopia; it lead to nothing but heartbreak. I could never undo what I had done, never return the lives I had claimed to their homes, but there was still one life I had to take. As I drew my last breath, I felt the entire world, my entire being, collapse in on itself and implode like a star. My only hope was that the utopia I so desperately craved could still be achieved, for their sakes", "I had a party yesterday with the elites of the magnificent Utopia I have wrought out of this planet. The occasion? Celebrating the 14th millennia of my benevolent and incredibly peaceful rule.\n\nTwenty eight thousand years have been very kind to me. I feel younger than ever, capable of anything, and in complete control of everything around me. But part of me, some small little nuisance of a feeling has been nagging at the back of my mind since this party. And I'm beginning to think I know what it is. \n\nMy greatest friend, my right hand, whom would be very time consuming to replace brought me something very special on this anniversary of my greatness. Something that I thought didn't exist any more. \n\nA being with an ability. I thought that the royal guard and international search organizations had found them all, that the last one had been taken for mine before the collapse. When the nations of the world into my grand empire, I was convinced that I was the only one. That I was all of them. \n\nSo, when I was presented with this gift, I took it immediately. With the child on it's knees, I laid my hand on the crown of it's head. I took a deep breath.\n\nThen as I exhale, the ability that I haven't used in millennia, reached forth into this small frail being. Tendrils of my magnificent power searched through to find all of the traces of ability, barely a moment later, I could feel this small thing's power being surrounded by my own. Once fully encased, I took a breath back in and pulled it all in with me. What genuine joy it is to use a power that is undeniably and truly my own! I use so many other powers throughout the day to keep me from aging, being injured, preventing me from the need to eat, manipulating the people around me, it felt so good to use this natural power of mine once more. So, I savored this breath as much as I can. \n\nA few of the party goers gasped as I took this power in. I'm sure they were just startled by the child's eyes burning out, but that is just a testament to how great it felt. I must have lost my grip on their minds for just a second, taken in by the sheer bliss of my own power. \n\nAs the child's body thumped to the floor and was grabbed by my attendants so that my lovely guests won't have to step around it, I exhaled a sigh of relief. It felt good to take in another power again after all this time. \n\nI stood there searching inward to see what I had gained and found nothing. This had happened before, so I was not too worried. More than likely it was simply a power so similar to one I already manifest that it didn't change much. \n\nSatisfied with this gift, I reached out mentally to my right hand and provided them with a feeling of pleasure, something much greater than any physical pleasure available to these mere mortals. Seeing them collapse into a chair, I was satisfied to continue with my party. \n\nBut now I'm wondering if that child had a new power for me after all. I haven't had a dream in ages on account of the fact that I no longer need sleep, yet last night I distinctly remember hearing something in my night time meditation. Typically I reach out and provided pleasure in the dreams of my constituants, I give them an image of pleasing me through their worship, and providing their little minds with positive feelings for revering me properly. \n\nIt started quietly, at first, sounding like nothing more than those small little insectoids that I eradicated early in my reign. But it slowly grew until it sounded like a million raspy voices screaming directly into my ears.\n\nI jerked my eyes open and my body fell back onto the cushion I had been gently levitating over to hear nothing but silence around me. \n\nI do not get shaken, I am an immortal god.\n\nI am also not insane. I cannot be. I am infallible.\n\nBut part of me wonders: with the pleasure I so gloriously apply to the masses who could possibly be screaming into my ears? They're all perfectly blissful. I made them that way." ]	5
	[WP] It is common to see a portrayal of the stereotypical emotionless alien being taught how to love by humans in the media. However, when we make first contact we soon learn that, by their standards, we are the emotionless ones, and they want to fix that.	[ "\"I WARNED YOU!\" Brian yelled, advancing on the alien \"doctors\", his body covered in gore. \"I WARNED YOU HOW DANGEROUS UNCHECKED EMOTION IS BUT YOU WOULDN'T LISTEN!\"\n\nBrian never considered himself a very aggressive man, he'd much rather buy someone a drink than punch their lights out, but apparently to these invaders, that was a sign of 'extreme emotional repression'. They were so over-emotional that even those loudmouth Yanks were seen as downright robotic, so a Brit like himself was public enemy number one.\n\nThe abductions were sudden, they teleported people into their 'treatment' facilities on their ships, restrained, and started pumping people with god knows what, claiming that it would \"allow us to truly feel\". Brian, and others among him, struggled to escape. \"You can't do this! People just cause death and destruction when they get too emotional!\"\n\nThe invaders didn't listen and got exactly what they wanted, raw, un-restrained emotion. Rage burned white-hot in Brian's mind and his body, unfettered by higher thought, ripped the restraints off the table. Before the aliens could even begin to react, their subjects had lept upon them, ripping them apart tooth and nail. The invaders were too shocked to even consider defending themselves.\n\nOnce the room was cleared, the intense heat of rage gave way to the slow burn of hatred. These aliens took away our minds, so we will take everything from them. \"Rip and tear.\"", "Roger Burton takes a deep breath and straightens his tie before stepping through the door onto the White House front lawn. Roger, fluent in nine languages, a dabbler in a dozen others, seasoned diplomat, and former Secretary of State, knows this is the most important assignment he had ever been given. He is going to be the first official contact between the United States and an extraterrestrial being.\n\nThe ships had first come into view six days ago. A message had followed just moment after, in sixty languages, asking for diplomats to meet at various locations around the globe. Of course, there were security concerns, and the president and every other major government official is ten miles underground in a bunker in Montana. But Roger, he is expendable.\n\nHe smiles at the thought as the spring sunlight hits his face. He walks out onto the grass and looks up at the ship. Suddenly, two...creatures stand before him. \"No.\" he thinks to himself. \"I cannot consider them creatures. I must think of them as people.\" That is not an easy task, when they are both twelve feet tall, shaped like upside-down ice cream cones, and a color somewhere between brick and eggplant.\n\nRoger just stares in stunned silence, until a voice comes at him, seemingly from nowhere. \"Roger Burton. It is wonderful to meet you! You are the most incredible being we have ever seen!\" the voice is positively...joyful.\n\nRoger is taken aback by the strength of emotion dancing in the voice. He composes himself, and steps forward. \"Greetings. Welcome to the seat of government of the United States of America. Our people welcome you.\"\n\nThe aliens are silent for a moment and then a voice full of sadness drips through the air. \"Roger, why don't you like us? What have we done wrong? Oh...if only someone better than us had been sent to meet with you. We are so sorry!\"\n\nRoger Burton briefly considers if there could be some sort of translation error going on here, but he has no idea how this communication is even possible, so he decides it's not worth him spending much time thinking about. \"No, I am sorry if I gave you that impression. I am most pleased to have been chosen to meet with you. Perhaps I am not conveying myself properly.\"\n\nThe voice again fills the air. \"Do you really like us Roger? Because you are showing us no emotion. Are you well? We can detect no joy, no hate, no love, no excitement. In our people, that is only possible if there is extreme illness.\"\n\nRoger smiles slightly. \"Well, we would except there to be some differences between us, wouldn't we? I can assure you that I am honored to be meeting with you. And I am not ill in any way. I have plenty of emotions.\" He puts his head down as he remembers the fight he had with his wife just this morning, when she tried to talk him out of this meeting.\n\nThere is a pause, and then the aliens speak again. \"Tell us of your shows of emotion. And, please tell us why you don't seem to show any emotion toward us? We consider it most rude!\" The anger in the voice this time puts his anger towards his wife to shame. He lifts his head sharply to study the aliens, but they have not physically moved since their arrival, at least not in any way Roger can detect.\n\nHe clears his throat, calming himself, and carefully chooses which stories to tell. He talks about joyful events, like his wedding day, and the births of his three children. He talks about sadness, recounting the deaths of his parents, and his eldest daughter's battle with leukemia. He talks about excitement, remembering his graduation from Harvard and his first assignment as the Ambassador to Japan. He deliberately never talks about anger. The whole time, the aliens are silent, presumably listening. \n\nWhen he finishes, the voice resumes immediately. \"Oh Roger, those stories are wonderful. But, we do not see real emotion in them. We wept, and laughed, and shudder with envy at your stories, but you did not. You feel nothing even at your own greatest and worst moments. We suspect your diagnosis of illness is incorrect. We think you are, sadly, severely emotionally damaged.\"\n\nRoger does not like the sound of that at all, and the tinge of the voice was bordering on unhinged. \"I did not agree to this meeting to be insulted. I am a highly successful and stable person. I have been happily married to the same woman for fifty-three years. I am sad for those who deal with emotional disorders, but I have never struggled with mental illness. Mental illness in our people comes in the form of crippling depression, sometimes so bad that a person cannot get out of bed. It comes in the form of bipolar disorder, where a person swings from elevated mood to low mood. It comes in many, many forms, and it is often successfully treated medically.”\n\nThe next spoken words from the aliens come with a definite sound of shock. \"You medicate the people amongst you who actually have strong feelings? That's barbaric!\"\n\n\"They do not simply have strong feelings! They cannot control themselves. They require help.\" Roger uses every ounce of his experience to bite back his frustration.\n\n\"Poor, poor humans. It is all of you who need help. Don't worry Roger, we will fix everything.\" \n\nBefore he has time to react, a beam lances out of the one of the beings and pierces Roger Burton's forehead. He can almost feel a pulse, and then a snap in his brain. Suddenly, the world opens before him. The birds sound so much...happier. A slight breeze tickles his skin, and the pleasure is one of the greatest things he has ever felt. He staggers backwards, bumping into a column, and turns in rage, snarling at it. He falls to his knees, overcome with a storm of feelings.\n\n\"Roger. We love you. We will teach all humans to love just as you now love.\"\n\nTears of gratitude flow from Roger's eyes, as he shouts, \"Thank you! I have never known life like this! You are my savior...you are my gods!\" Roger tears his shirt in triumph, ignoring the feeling of his seventy-two year old heart about to give out, of his blood pressure bursting forth into aneurysms. \n\n\"You are welcome, Roger! Now, quickly, you must tell us where your leaders are, that we might heal them also.\"\n\nRoger gladly tells them what they ask, even as the blood flows into his brain and his speech slurs, even as his heart races his brain to destruction. Roger can feel every bit of it, but his only joy, now, is to help these aliens free his people.\n\nThanks for the great prompt! If you liked this story please check out my other writings over at r/chuckusmaximus.", "Jamilorax wept for the eighteenth time that hour, his spectrum of joy red\\-lining the moment Larry smiled.\n\nFor Larry's part, he was aware that the smile was... insincere. But Jamilorax had asked so nicely, his mandibles shuddering in anticipation. Those weird, unsettling hands with the three long fingers and six joints \$two double joints, so he could hold objects on either side, woof\$ were on his shoulders.\n\nJamilorax's black, shimmering eyes became opalescent. \"Yes, yes, Larry of Boise! Yes! Oh!\" One hand left Larry's shoulder and swooned across Jamilorax's long forehead, just beneath the plume of feathery, blue antennae running along his head. \"You're learning so quickly! I am beyond proud.\"\n\nI can smile, you nut, thought Larry. He poured the smile on a little thicker. Mostly, he wanted his La\\-Z\\-Boy. Alsura Neptulon was an interesting spot to orbit at first, with its green acidic clouds and shining ivory cities that towered into the atmosphere like spires of glass.\n\nNow, they sought to teach him how to smile more. How to frown more, how to be their idea of more. It was less than idyllic for Larry, who gave himself a black eye on the kickback from his father's six\\-shooter as a boy. In a profoundly charitable act, his unrelentingly cool poppa had tossed a steak out of the fridge to quell the bump and calmly taken the gun away before going back to smoking tobacco on the back porch. Not a word. Not a worry.\n\nThat was childhood. Adulthood. Larry's idea of manhood. Emotions were a marker of the weak.\n\nApparently, this principle was frowned\\-upon \$literally\$ by every form of intergalactic fauna.\n\nJamilorax's life\\-bonded, Parysynthia, entered the room.\n\nJammy \$that's what Larry called him in the journal he'd been forced to write about feelings\$ began to cry anew, seemingly overwhelmed that his mate had not been sucked from an airlock since she left the room 5 minutes ago.\n\nThey embraced. His proboscis, located in a flap of skin just beneath his neck, stretched out and wrapped about hers. They hummed a high tune for a moment, which left a residual chime in Larry's ears.\n\n\"Any progress?\" she asked.\n\n\"He has smiled!\"\n\nParysinthia burst into tears of joy.\n\nLarry rolled his eyes. Ten more days and he'd be home with a pocket lined with their currency. The exchange rate was good. He could get a new La\\-Z\\-Boy.\n\nThen, he'd have no need to sign up again." ]	3
	[WP] Two kings have been engaged in a bitter war for over a decade, each one performing strategic marvels from his throne. Unknown to both of them. Both of their armies have long since shaken hands and gone home as friends. The entire kingdom is in on it.	[ "Two titans \nThey clashed \nA thundering army\nEach boasted so brash \nAnd with a deafening roar \nThey collided \nTwo worlds unhinged \nNot knowing which titan \nWould come out on top\nYet the the outcome it seemed \nWas already stopped \nAs a new shiny king \nHad already been crowned \nAs the outcome was preordained \nHe had been chosen \nThe new king was to be named \nTo unite the two kingdoms \nAnd cease this endless war \nYou will lay down your arms \nAnd fight, no more. \n\n\n\n", "King Ardelentalus' face was contorted in thought as he stared down at the old map, candle light barely illuminated the dark room. Dagger marks and charcoal marred it from years of use as the King stewed through one strategy after the other. The war had waged for too many years and each battle was close, but the aged King always managed to create newer and more profoundly ornate strategies that would confound the enemy and lead his forces to victory. His face crinkled in deep thought as he took a well used shard of coal to the map, leaving dark lines to dictate his armies next moves. \n\nThe King's eldest, Prince Vaentus, sat in a velvet chair not too far from his father. He held a scroll in one hand and coal stick on the other, looking up when his father drew something new and scribbling notes on the scroll. The King was never particular about who wrote his orders, as long as they be delivered just in time for his army to enact their next daring move. \n\n\"There!\" He exclaimed with one final sweep of his coal before he began to stumble backwards. The steward who had been standing in the corner of the dimly lit room looked up with a start from his favorite pastime of picking his nails and rushed to get a chair behind the King, which the King collapsed into, clearly exhausted. \n\n\"My son! Quickly! Send a bird! A courier! Anything! My orders!\" The King barked out his orders, then collapsed again. He thin chest heaved with effort.\n\nThe Prince walked over and placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. \"Do not worry father. The army will have your plan in hand before the moon fully rises. This battle will be ours.\" The Prince was crouched by his father, whose face seemed to shrivel now that he was not so deep in though. The King's body collapsed in on itself and his usually vacant expression and sunken, distant stare returned. The years had not been kind to the aging King.\n\n\"Brilliant as always, my lord.\" The steward whispered to the King and used the wheeled chair to move the King by his fire place, where he would sit for a few minutes before asking to be helped into bed. \n\nThe Prince excused himself from the room and his consultant assumed his position at his side. \n\n\"How is he?\" The round bellied man asked in a timid voice. \n\nVaentus let out a deep sigh, and his face seemed to collapse as well, though his eyes were full of grief. \"He seems to get worse every day. The only time we can reach him is when he is planning wars and even then he hardly speaks. He doesn't even want to eat anymore and he gets weaker everyday. Cevier, tell me, am I truly doing the right thing?\" The Prince paused and looked into his best friends eyes. It had been many years since either of them were young men. In the dim hall they both looked far beyond their years.\n\n\"Vaentus, my lord and friend, you are doing what any good son would do for his father. You know you have the support of the Kingdom. The entire Kingdom.\"\n\n\"But...\" Vaentus trailed off. He looked away, out through a window in the hall where the moon was just beginning to rise over the peaceful Kingdom. \"I always feel as though we're being dishonest. Lying to him. Cheating him.\"\n\n\"He was a great man in his day. All we are doing is letting him continue to be great. Let him pass with some dignity. He was a hero, and if he continues to think of himself as one, where is the harm?\" \n\nVaentus merely sighed. He'd heard it all before: How great of a strategist his father was in the day. How quick he was to make plans even in the bleakest of situations. How he could pull a victory from a sure loss.\n\nIt all changed some years ago, when his mind began to leave him and none had the heart to depose the King, as good of a ruler as he had been. Even when he went to war with the crazed King Daedelus of the North, none had the heart to stop him. That was, until the body count on both sides got too high and the sons of the two lands made the decision on their own. Neither King would relent on his own, so the Prince of the North and South decided they would meet together to do what their fathers would not.\n\nMany would say it was love at first sight, when Vaentus and Claudius met under the Pax Tree with the full moon shining above them.\n\nPrince Vaentus had always tried to hide the fact that his love of certain fellow soldiers was more than mere friendship, but he had been unable to prevent his heart from pounding out of his chest when he met Prince Claudius. The feeling was mutual on both sides, and while love between two Princes was unusual, it was even more unusual when it was exposed that the two had married in secret. However, they were both kind, level headed leaders, who led their forces to treaties instead of battle. It seemed normal, of course, that over the years they had begun to take over for their fathers.\n\nKing Ardelentalus had grown feeble and King Daedelus had always been insane. The Kingdoms had no problem deceiving the two of them and allowing them to think they were still at war, when even their sons were sharing a bed. It had always plagued Vaentus' heart that his father was too far gone to see how wonderful Claudius was and give his blessings to the couple, as he was sure his father would have had no objections to true love. Even now, Claudius had been introduced time and again to the King, but to no reaction.\n\nEven as Vaentus thought of him, it seemed like Claudius materialized. \"Vaentus!\" He called quietly, coming up the stairway that led to the dark hall. \"Vaentus, my father has lost it this time!\" His voice rose when he saw his husband.\n\n\"What has he commanded now?\" Cevier stepped in. A smile played across his face. For all the years that they had been fooling the 2 Kings, the jolly, round man had always been happy to play the part of director for all of the theatrics.\n\nClaudius rolled his eyes in exasperation. \"He wishes to burn down his own castle. Something about a great act of trickery. He says he needs a dragon and wishes me to send my sister to some gods forsaken caves as a hopes to seduce one and use it in some convoluted way. It makes no sense! Absolutely none! The man is insane, but I think he has too much free time. You should see how much ink he wasted.\" He stopped when he caught sight of Vaentus' expression. \"Oh dear. What's wrong love? Is your father alright?\" \n\nVaentus gave a sad smile. \"Nothing to worry about right now. The same as usual. We should figure out where to get a dragon.\"\n\nClaudius huffed. \"We can worry about such things later. Come, you look like you need to talk. Cevier we'll leave you to it.\" Claudius began guiding Vaentus away, likely to their chambers where he would fuss over Vaentus until dawn and then be asleep till midday. \n\nIt was fine. The Kingdoms had united years ago and were at peace, both flourishing together as one united by two Princes, with two Kings who both performed great strategic moves in a war that had long ceased to exist. ", "\"Aye, Milord, We'll have the Usurper's keep in a fortnight hence\".\n\nDrew signed the letter, placed it in the envelope, poured hot wax on the seal, and stamped his family insignia into the wax. As it cooled, he looked out, past his quiet tent, past the rows of daisies growing on the pitched battlefield, and settled his gaze on the enemy encampment across the field. What on earth could they be up to?\n\nToday, it was soccer, apparently. Thursdays was always a ball sport of some kind. After the truce had been signed in secret months ago, the men had found ways to keep morale up. Soon after the fighting ceased, merchants appeared with all sorts of exotic wares, and the 'battlefield' became a bustling shantytown. All this thanks to some clever negotiations done in secret, between Drew and the usurper's champion, Wryne. Thankfully she had seen the wisdom of Drew's plan, and the two had agreed it would be wiser to simply wait until the king passed away, to prevent bloodshed. The rightful claimant to the throne, John the III, had become senile in his old age, and he had foolishly left only a single heir, who had perished to the flux a young age. Both captains agreed that with no rightful heirs, the usurper's claim to the throne was as good as anyone's, and while Drew hated the treasonous idea of giving the enemy a victory, he knew that it was the right choice for the kingdom in the long run. \n\nA ball bounced jauntily into the tent, and nestled comfortably against the canvas lining. There would be no war today, nor any other day, for both sides agreed life was more important than petty feuds. Drew knew that his letter was little more than a boldfaced lie, but his duty was to his men, not the mad king. Not anymore. Not ever again.", "\"...and we will never stop fighting, til the Western enemy is gone!\" King Easton roared to the crowds of people below, gathered in his lavish pavilion. \"You are all dismissed, and I expect renewed fighting tomorrow!\"\n\nThey roared back. His people were like small coloured dots in the distance as they filtered out of the courtyard. As the last stragglers left, Easton sighed and readjusted the crown atop his hair. He'd tried to comb it down a few minutes ago before his daily evening speech, but failed to tame the thick brown mess. Stress was getting to him.\n\n\"How are you faring, sir?\" his advisor Samson enquired as Easton trudged into his chambers, pulling off his long red cloak. Samson's eyes were wide and always questioning, which Easton found somewhat suspicious most of the time, like Samson was hiding something, or trying to figure out something. However, tonight Easton was too tired to be bothered.\n\n\"As always,\" the king said, rubbing his eyelids. \"Go to bed, Samson.\"\n\n\"As you wish.\"\n\nNow Easton was alone, and he finally allowed all the stress swamping him to overwhelm him. He threw himself onto his bed and buried his head in his pillows, thinking about some regular things. Despair. Hopelessness. Stress. This was his daily routine.\n\nThe mirror by his bedside stand began glowing and vibrating.\n\nHe groaned, eternally tired, and got up to pick up the Magic Mirror. He had acquired it from a witch on one of his conquests, before the war with the West, and found it to come in handy when contacting with people.\n\nNamely, the king of the West.\n\n\"Evening, Weston,\" he said to the mirror, holding it up.\n\nIn it was not his own reflection, but the image of King Weston, who had short blonde hair and a thick moustache, but otherwise had the exact same worry lines and droopy eyes.\n\nWeston's brow furrowed and in his deep, booming voice, asked, \"Hey, how was it today?\"\n\n\"Good, I think? The people are still excited about the war though,\" he sighed, rubbing his eyes. \"I've been trying to deter them a bit, like telling them that war might be detrimental to our economic status, and the like, but I still think that they're quite convinced. I think they're still in love with the idea of war.\"\n\n\"Hobgoblin.\" \$Usually, Weston used much more aggressive expletives.\$ \"Well, I had the same issue. All my people turn up to my evening addresses, which is concerning, because that means they're probably excited about war, right?\"\n\nEaston shrugged. \"I suppose.\"\n\n\"Damned, stupid war.\" Weston looked furious. \"I always \\- I always think, 'hey what if we just all stop.' What if I tell my people, 'I'm done with this stupid war. I've never wanted to be at war in the first place. Y'know King Easton and I? We've been corresponding ever since these stupid battles started. And we* hate it. We absolutely hate it.' I just want to say that.\"\n\n\"But we can't,\" Easton said firmly. \"Then they'll know all those people died in vain, for a war neither of us wanted.\"\n\n\"I know, I know,\" he said, shaking his head. \"It's just ... what if? What if we just told them?\"\n\n\"We can't. I'm sorry.\"\n\nThere was an awkward silence that filled the air.\n\n\"How is, uh, what is his name, Samson?\n\n\"It's like they're all in on a secret. All of my advisors and servants and knights are always whispering about, and whenever they see me, suddenly stop. I think they might be discussing battle plans, strategic victories.\n\nWeston rolled his eyes. \"Ugh. That's irritating.\" He suddenly laughed. \"Hey, you know what would be interesting? If they all were in on their own little plans. And they were all against the idea too, and we didn't know about their plans, and they didn't know about ours. That'd be ironic. Funny, even.\"\n\n\"Hmm, yeah,\" Easton said, thinking. \"Hilarious.\"", "King Amadeus, still sweating at the thought of his last theatrical defeat, was certain this time he would win. Adjusting his royal purple robe and then ruby-embedded crown atop his wispy black hair, he was all but ready for his performance. Peering out through wrinkled but wide eyes that told of once-youthful vigor, he saw thousands of sputtering orbs, the eyes of onlookers, shining back in the dark. The lights, the lights! he thought. He had almost forgotten to cue the backstage light-guy. And like that, the stage lit up, ambient chandeliers glowed above the plebeian audience. The peons came from all walks of life, mostly manure-shoveling, shoe-shining, brick-laying walks, but they were people nonetheless and they would have to do. \n\nThey, the peons that is, had grown tired of the pompous display. They would snicker behind otherwise emotionless faces as they watched on at the spectacle. In the back sat a row of judges, neutral visitors from a nearby nation with no vested interest in the internal politics or disputes of their neighboring regions. It was the seasonal royal dance-off. Again. How they got to this point bewildered them. Did King Amadeus of Greenacre really devise a dance-off to settle his differences with King Humphrey of Blackacre? Why yes, yes he did, and the competitive spirit of Humphrey never declined a good challenge. So here they were, 11 years later and 43 dance-offs behind their collective belts. Each time the audience would fill with neighboring Greenacre and Blackacre plebes; separated by a purely-symbolic fencing. They would pretend to hate each other, boo, brawl and scream profanities (well the screaming was not faked but it was certainly not from a place of anger). In reality, most were fucking and shooting the breeze after the odd performance. In fact, several had children together and were confounded as to which side the child would go on, so father and mother would switch off. They'd hold an after-party in the fields, dancing and drinking in the moonlight until they passed out in laughter. But for now, for now, they would await the talented gyrations of both competing Kings, stone-faced and in character.\n\nDuke Artemis beckoned his highness, King Amadeus of Greenacre, and like that the crowd went silent (mostly in a state of absolute stupor at the predictable vision that would ensue). King Amadeus, a hefty and tall man with Italian-like dark features, slid out to center stage, stared directly into the eyes of the audience-members, fixating on one at a time to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Then it happened. They wished it wouldn't but it did. Every time. He began--well, moving. They called it the \"worm-dance\" (note: this was before \"the worm\" was a thing). The king would turn sideways, maintaining eye contact, and began wiggling his stomach in calculated movements. Sometimes, like today he'd lift his arms out sideways and wiggle them too, like a squid. Luckily, the robe obscured most of whatever was going on underneath. They didn't want to know. This continued for an excruciating 2 minutes as the audience struggled to keep in their laughs. But King Amadeus could not lose again, so he had to do something different this time. In what would be his most theatrical show yet, he threw off his robe and stood before them in only his royal tights, which revealed every contour of his vulgar body. The crowd gasped. This was surely inappropriate for children. Others looked on, mouths agape, at his stunning display of human body hair. But their shock soon turned to interest. King Amadeus fell to his stomach, and began pushing himself off the ground and twisting in circular movements (they hadn't discovered break dancing quite yet either but this with the precursor to it, no doubt). Next thing they knew he was in a full-on headstand, spinning around until he was dizzy. He then leapt back to his feet, bowed, and wiggled his way of the stage. The Greenacre plebes screamed a thunderous applause. \n\nThe duke inched back on the stage momentarily, and then introduced King Humphrey of blackacre. King Humphrey was black, slim, and muscular. He was also a spectacular asshole who loved to show off his every talent. He had won the previous battle with an exquisite ballet. Each time he would try something different, showcasing his range of movement. Usually, he would win, but many times he would lose footing at the most critical moment of the dance, costing him several performance points. Of course it was all strategic. King Amadeus preferred the predictable ratings and worm-dance. King Humphrey took bigger risks, but when he won, he won big. He wanted badly to win. The winner would avail himself of the free labor of the enemy plebes (in reality, the plebes were fine tending to either king's kingdom). \n\nAnd so King Humphrey decided on a special interpretive dance this time. In his royal blue robe, and emerald and diamond-encrusted crown, King Humphrey moved gracefully to the center of the stage. He then reached up to the heavens and stood tall and still as an arrow, hands clasped above him. He then bent over, slid his arms forward, then rapidly to the side, then to the other, then contorted his body into a pretzel. The audience was not having it. What the fuck is this they thought? Even the judges were confused. What was there to interpret. King Humphrey, in a poetically just manner, grabbed at his heart and then fell forward, as if shot by an invisible bullet. Then he broke out into more intense and rapid movements, sliding, jumping, stamping, swaying, and twisting across the stage like a mutant alien. He then jumped up, landed in the splits, and hurried off the stage. The Blackacre crowd begrudgingly clapped and hooted, but deep downed pondered what the fuck they had just seen.\n\n\"And now for the results.\" The duke appeared. \"I know you all can't wait for it, so I won't have you wait. Judges, what's the verdict?\"\n\nThe judges shuffled through their score boards. Each would hold up two boards: a score for King Amadeus in green, and a score for King Humphrey in black. It was a close-call but the numbers did not lie: three 3's (out of 10) for King Amadeus, and three 2.5's (out of 10) for King Humphrey. King Amadeus won the day! The audience erupted once more for him, \"woooo, woooo, woooo!\"\n\nBut the applause was cut short, when King Amadeus took to the stage to make an announcement. \"Now, I know it has been standard for the winning king to avail himself of the plebeian labor of the enemy forces. But today, I wish to do something differently, to assert who the real supreme king is. Today, instead of using my one winner's wish to ask for labor, I ask that I draw a random name from this prepared bucket here, including the names of all Blackacre residents. The name I pull will be executed by a random Greenacre name to be pulled from this other bucket. Failure to comply, will result in death of both parties.\"\n\nThe crowd went dead silent, followed by protests and shouting from the members! They were friends. He couldn't just use his winner's wish to kill, as a death wish! King Humphrey was shocked, and tried to protest as well, \"but you mustn't change the order of things.\" King Amadeus pulled out the royal dance-off contract, which in fine print stated, \"winner's wish may be used to kill enemy.\" What?! Of course it was in the fine print. King Humphrey, an honest man of his word, resigned to the rules, and then the names were called.\n\n\"I will start with the killer. For Greenacre, the killer will be Mr. Tertullian Dingle.\" Tertullian nearly leapt out of the crowd, but was held back. He was just a 20 year old vegetarian BOY who played the accordion, hardly had a violent drop of blood in him! Please don't be the woman I love, he thought, please don't. \"And the victim from Blackacre will be Ms. Annalynn Brown.\" Tertullian's heart sank into despair! Not his love, no, no, not her. Annalynn looked at him from across the fence with a look that would haunt him for the rest of his life (however long that would be). It was the look of, \"yes, just do it\" and the look of \"I love you\" combined in one. Annalynn was a beautiful black woman of just 18 years of age. She was wearing a raggedy brown dress ripped at the arms and knees. That was considered unbecoming and immodest of women, except those who worked in the fields. But she was not a field-worker. In fact, she came from a high-end family but liked to wear tattered clothing as a sign of solidarity. On her upper left arm was a gold bangle she inherited from her grandmother. \"Just do it,\" she mouthed to him. The frail and pail and nervous Tertullian (with a sandy blond bowl-cut, the rage of the times, and blue-green eyes), began to shake. The two were summoned to the stage.\n\nKing Amadeus grabbed the boy by the shoulder, \"now show them what it means to be fearless, boy!\" He handed the boy (technically a man, but he looked like a boy), a sharpened knife and whispered, \"now, go straight for the jugular; it will shorten the suffering, and a pretty lady like this ought not to suffer long.\"\n\nThe knife shook in Tertullian's hand to the point he almost lost his gripping. He thought for a moment of stabbing the king instead but noticed there were dozens of guards with spears around him (where the hell did they come from?). He looked back at Annalynn, then to his murderous hand that had every urge to preserve his own life. But his heart resisted. \"Hurry up now!\" The king yelled. The audience looked on silently, sorrowfully. Is this what would come off the dance-offs? Surely, this would erupt into real war, no matter the outcome....\n\n(TBC)", "\"Yes, my liege, a brilliant strategy as always. They'll never know what hit them. Until it does. Erm. Hit them. That is.\" A bead of sweat began to trickle down the royal Advisor's brow, adding a further shimmer to his already glistening complexion. \"I shall draft a message to the frontlines at once, by your leave.\" The wizened visage of the King inclined consentingly before returning its gaze to the immaculately detailed model terrain of a battlefield. His trusted Advisor bowed shallowly and shuffled out of the war room before letting out a tremendous sigh. He'd never considered himself a particularly good liar, but it was his duty to tell the king exactly what he needed to hear. It had never been stipulated however, that what he needed to hear was the truth.\n\nWere it not for this one idle thought, that had once happened across his mind and broke through his lips before he'd had the chance to shut it away safely where it belonged, he might have slept better these past several years. But, he was a hero of sorts. He'd saved countless thousands of lives through his valiant and heroic deception. The thought didn't give him much satisfaction. He trundled wearily through the hall praying to all the gods he'd ever read about that he could make it to his chambers unhindered for a few hours rest. He must have missed the one that might've heeded his plea, because to his dismay the grinning mustachioed face of Baldrick, one of the royal knights beamed at him expectantly. His squire, a lad named Gunter, who'd be even with him on a scale but who stood barely half his height, did his best to suck in at attention, looking not entirely unlike an overripe tomato constricted by rubber bands.\n\n\"How'd it go eh,\" Baldrick gave the advisor a knowing wink. \"I bet the lad he'd see through this last one, reckoned he'd be a tad suspicious after that last bit of indiscretion the other week, but looks like you still got that shiny melon of yours.\" The guardsman forcefully flicked a copper coin over his shoulder and put an unwelcome arm around the King's most trusted confidant, accompanying him down the hall, leaving Gunter to rub a reddening coin-sized welt on his forehead.\n\n\"Chin up lad,\" Baldrick said brightly, \"A few short years and you'll only have half as much work on your plate.\" He gave a short chuckle and clapped the Advisor on the back. \"Well we'd best get you along then, no sense keeping the other old bastard waiting, shame that he won't be going anywhere anytime soon.\"\n\nThe Advisor hobbled out of Baldrick's stony grasp to the end of the empty hall and looked over his shoulder furtively, before rapping an elaborate rhythm upon the barren stonework of the wall before him. The dead end spun abruptly, taking the two men along with it.\n\nOn the other side, a crimson, crackling glow lit the way before him, casting sinister shadows down the hall. Sconces of crudely wrought iron burned with menacing flames. Baldrick made his way to what appeared to be a coatrack wrought entirely of bones, thoughtfully selected the most tasteful of the gnarled, horned helms that adorned it, before placing it on his head. He then donned a suit of armor that on the whole gave one the impression of an iron maiden turned inside out. \"Alright, arms out, you know how it goes.\" He eyes peered out apologetically from the skeletal visage of the helm, before he clasped the resigned advisor's wrists in chains and led him down the hall. Here and there about the hall could be seen various sorry looking souls in tattered, threadbare robes, with sunken eyes and weary faces, clothing soiled with what appeared to be blood and assorted filth. The foul entourage smiled and waved as the pair passed, and Baldrick's voice began to boom through the hall as they proceeded. \"MAKE WAY SLAVES! BACK YOU FILTH!\" His shouts were followed by the occasional violent thump or the crack of a whip, accompanied with wails and groans of apparent agony. One such wail gave way to a barely contained snigger, before an elbow from one of his compatriots transformed it to an appropriately pained yelp.\n\nThe pair paced the hall until they were faced with a suitably imposing doorway, set with skulls adorned with ruby eyes. The pair looked at each other reluctantly before Baldrick pounded resoundingly on the door. \"Your Unholiness,\" he called out in an unearthly snarl. \"The Advisor has been brought from the dungeons, as you commanded.\"\n\nThere was no response save for a dry rattle of air, a rasping, breathy noise that made one's skin crawl like the insects that were now scrabbling out of the slowly opening doors. Baldrick gave the advisor a knowing wink before pushing him through the opening and about facing to stand guard at the entrance.\n\nSure, he thought to himself, the Necromancer King was horrific enough. All desiccated flesh hanging off of bones, sunken abyssal eyes emitting sickly greenish light, tattered robes writhing with unspeakable insects and vermin. But it took more than that to command respect these days. Each and every legion of the damned, all the wakened dead, every foul hearted and corrupt soul he'd managed to rally had gladly returned to the foul pits from whence they came, for it seemed that their respective hells were nothing compared to the torment of menial labor. They'd renounced their Profane Lordship the instant they understood that instead of constructing immense foreboding citadels and forging innumerable skull shaped objects, they could simply stage an invasion of the capital and leave the Ruler Of All That Is Evil under the care of the King's own men, already consummate grovelers and appeasers from having dealt with their own brand of tyranny. As long as he thought his dark influence permeated the land, he didn't need to do any actual commanding of his dark armies. Though they could not break the contract that bound them to servitude, they'd found a loophole. They never had to do any evil bidding if there was no actual evil being bid.\n\nAfter what felt like an age, the Advisor was thrust from the darkened depths, and the two made their way back down the torchlit halls, as Baldrick and once again made a show of roughing up the peasantry on their way back to the hidden door between the two halves of the castle. As Baldrick returned to his post in the less grim half of the castle, the Advisor finally managed to slink of to his own chambers and collapse on his bed. Before sleep took him, he couldn't help but think that things would've been easier on him at least if they'd just gone and done a proper, old fashioned war.", "Two kings, one feud\n\nBitterness running through \nTheir veins \n\nSoldiers and generals \nHave stopped the good fight long ago\nBut still did rehearsals for the Kings' ego\n\nA carefully orchestrated play\nThe \"dead\" alongside the props at bay\n\nEx manchina the name of various types \nOf misfortunes and \"unfortunate\" sights\n\nA war not in the battlefield \nBut in each king's mind \n\nFor every one else \nIt's nothing but a game of chess \n\nIt's not without reason, they put up this play\nThat might account as treason, if you may \n\nBecause everyone knows that by the end of the game\nEveryone from the king to the last pawn\nends up on the same box, and the same place. ", "Count Druettus barges through the golden gates, with a scroll in hand, and a neck in his other hand. It was Peasant Perez's neck, whom was carrying a message from the great King Swale. \n \n\"My gracious King! This peasant claims to be a messenger of our sworn enemy! He reckons it's a peace offering!\" \n \nKing Huguard of Adelidith arises from his throne, adjusts his robe and crown, and gently speaks \"Read it.\" \n \nCount Dreuttus turns Perez's body towards him, shoves the scroll into his chest, and then pushes him forward towards the bottom of the throne's staircase and yells \"Read it peasant!\" \n \nTrembling, knees on the ground, and head to floor, Perez opens the scroll and starts to mutter the words. \n \n\"M...M..My dear-\" \n \n\"Louder!\" - Screams the Count \n \n\"My dear Huguard, our differences have gone on for far too long. \nPerhaps it is time to look at our similarities instead, and focus on strengthening them. \nOur resources, and our geographic locations put us at a great advantage against our far neighbours. \nTogether, we can prosper. I ask to conjoin our kingdoms. \nIf the peasant returns to me aliv-\" \n\nPerez pauses briefly, starts to turn his head towards the count, but then is immediately knocked back \n \n\"Keep reading!\" - The count insists. \n \n\"Alive, then I will take it that you have accepted the offer. If not, then our cold war continues. If I receive his head however, then we shall go to war within the dawn, I await your response.\" \n \nTerrified, Perez keeps his eyes locked to the ground as he slowly folds the scroll. \n\nBefore allowing the King to make a decision, Count Druettus interrupts, and suggests to escalate this message into the situation room to further discuss the options. \n\nKing Huguard agrees to meet after midday. \n \nDreuttus grabs the peasant by the neck again, and escorts him outside the palace. \n\nOnce they are alone, Perez turns to Dreuttus and frustratingly cries \"Really? My head? My life? Why would you add that I tho-\" \n \n\"Relax. The executioner obeys my command. This escalates the seriousness of the offer, of whom the king might agree to. Go back to Bromokath, and await further instructions. I will be in contact with Count Rolin to organise.\" \n \n\"Alright. When do we initiate our turn?\" \n\"We would need a peasant from Adelidith no more than two dawns from today if we are to successfully pull this off.\" \n \n\"I will call upon my friend Walkelinus of Bromokath to meet with Count Rolin\" \n\"Alright, and I'll let Rolin draft a similar message immediately upon the conclusion of the situation room.\" \n_______________________________________________________________________________________________ \n \nIt is said that the great kings of Adelidith and Bromokath hold the keys to the greatest treasures of the Lothoinnorian region. Only the kings can possess said keys and location, and the secrecy would go to their graves upon their death.* \n \nThe great people of Adelidith and Bromokath have grown frustrated with their kings' personal dispute with each other, and yet are unable to rise against their kings because they are of great value to their kingdoms, as individually, each king is kind and giving to the people, in addition to them holding the keys. \n \nThe people of both kingdoms were divided into two factions, those who wanted to conjoin the kingdoms, and those who wanted to stay split. \n \nBoth factions had questionable motives.\n______________________________________________________________________________________________ \n \nKing Swale arises from his golden bed, indulges in his daily great breakfast, and starts to prepare for his day. \n \nHe proceeds to his throne, his subordinates stand still with fear and respect, eyes locked into the opposite walls. \n\nKing Swale adjusts his robe, and sits on the glorious throne. \n \nCount Rolin barges through the golden gates, with a scroll in hand, and a neck in his other hand. It was Peasant Walkelinus's neck, whom was carrying a message from the great King Huguard. \n \n\"My gracious King! This peasant claims to be a messenger of our sworn enemy! He reckons it's a peace offering!\" \n \nKing Swale of Bromokath calmly replies \"Well, let him read it then will you?\" \n \nWalkelinus stands straight, opens the scroll, and starts reading. \n \n\"My dear Swale, our differences have gone on for far too long. \nPerhaps it is time to look at our similarities instead, and focus on strengthening them. \nOur resources, and our geographic locations put us at a great advantage against our far neighbours. \nTogether, we can prosper. I ask to conjoin our kingdoms. \nAs a token of good will, I have asked my greatest sculptor to create a statue for you. Inside it is a gift.\" \n\nWalkelinus looked puzzled at that bit, and as he turns around, a large figure on a platform starts to reel into the gates with the assistance of a few men.\n \nIt was a large stone statue of King Swale, crafted to the the most incredible detail. \n\nKing Swale rises from this throne, goes to the statue, and seems to be impressed. \nCurious, Swale grabs his magnificent sword, and vigorously slices through the statue. \n \nThe top half of the status falls apart, shatters open, and reveals a severed head. \n\nWalkelinus is appalled with horror, as he sees his great friend Perez's head with his eyes open on the floor. \n \nWalkelinus looks at Rolin, and Rolin grins back. \n \n\"It is war then! We go at dawn! Prepare!\" - Yells the king. \n \nWalkelinus's throat is then slit on the spot, as he falls to the ground and bleeds to death. \n \nThe scandal has spread throughout the entire region, as it was known that the Counts have conspired to overthrow the other. The people felt betrayed as they had their utmost trust in the counts to fix the relations, and have realised that those whom they were friends with, were no more. It was a war for the thrones. The rebels stayed home, while the loyalists went to war. \n \nThe war lasted several days on the field, and have wreaked havoc upon both kingdoms. Thousands of lives were lost. \nUpon the grounds of destruction, King Swale rides to the empty vast land that circles Adelidith and Bromokath where the great war fell place, and along him was Count Rolin. \n \nKing Huguard and Count Dreuttus ride towards the same land, to meet their sworn enemies as well. \n\nIt was a bright sunny day, with a chilly wind blowing. \n \nThey meet on land, lock eyes, and then start laughing hysterically. \n \n\"Good job gentlemen!\" - Shouts Swale \n \n\"Fantastic job indeed. We have taken out all the so called loyalists. How foolish of them to think we wouldn't know\" - Replies Huguard \n\nRolin and Dreuttus nod in response. \n\n\"Shall we go and build the new kingdom afresh now?\" - Says Rolin \n \n\"Let us begin.\" - Responds Dreuttus \n\nThe four men ride into the horizon, hoping to build a better kingdom for the remainder of their people, the 'rebels'. ", "“Ok. Great job today everyone. We’ll pick up tomorrow.” \n\nKyle gave the stage manager a nod as he wiped the sweat from his brow. It had been the same routine everyday for nearly ten years. Wake up. Work out. Receive the day’s script. Review past plot points, the reports from the two Kings and ongoing tactics and storylines. Acting was always the hardest part, but Kyle had grown into his role. \n\nHe had never even fought in the original war; only a few of the two Kings’ true soldiers remained. Most had been written off at some point or another. Some had taken jobs around the massive set or had gone to work as spies inside the two castles. Others had disappeared, seeking a quiet life. \n\nOf course, no one had told the two Kings the truth. That was the only rule.\n\n“You look tired, superstar,” Miranda said as Kyle took his seat. \n\nKyle smiled weakly, running a hand through his blood-flaked hair. It was fake-blood of course. When he had first started, the hair had been fake as well. \n\n“Why do you always worry so much?” she asked as she began to wipe the makeup from his face. “The King believes every word of your reports. You and Octavian are their favorites.”\n\nKyle glanced to the edge of the set. As always, Octavian was laughing, his band of artificial soldiers hanging on his every word. Octavian was one of the original soldiers. In fact, he had witnessed the Surrender first hand. \nEveryone loved Octavian. \n\n“I think it’s a mistake,” Kyle whispered as Miranda adjusted his hair. She had been with him from the beginning, staying by his side from his rise as a foot soldier to one of the elite. If there was anyone he could talk to, it was her. “This could ruin everything.” \n\n“You’re not really being captured,” Miranda sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic.” \n\n“Why would the writers agree to this? They have never done something like this before. The two Kings crave death on the battlefield. Why the sudden change in tactics?”\n\n“The war has been at a standstill for four seasons. Both George and Ender have demanded to see progress. You know the rule, we have to keep them believing – no matter what it takes. Just think how many lives you have saved by playing King George’s Commander. A few days off site won’t hurt. It's not like you haven't performed in front of them before.\" \n\nShe spun Kyle around so he could see his reflection in the mirror. It was hard to recognize himself sometimes. Years of training and work under the desert sun had turned his body into that of god. His thick black hair hung to his broad shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. His skin was smooth and tanned, hardened from hundreds of simulated battles.\n\n“What of George’s retaliation?” Kyle argued. “Losing me will cause him to do something extreme. Do we actually think that Frederick is ready to handle my role as Commander? What if the King stops by for one of his random inspections? What if he wants to fight again?” \n\n“It’s only temporary, and we know his schedule by heart,” she assured him. “This is all leading to your dramatic duel with Octavian. When you finally kill him off and escape, the war will be safe for at least another few weeks as Ender works out his next move.”\n\nKyle sighed. She couldn’t see it. Eventually, this whole operation was going to fail. The real war would start up again. It was just a matter of when. \n\nAs Miranda applied fresh makeup to make his impending capture convincing, he studied Octavian in the distance. The other Commander sensed his stare and flashed him a flawless smile, teeth stained red from the dinner platter. \n\nAlways so perfect, Kyle frowned. \n\nWhy couldn’t the others see the truth? Octavian wasn’t going to let himself get killed off. He loved the money, the women, the fame. This kidnapping was a ploy.\n\nOctavian had saved himself from death’s door a dozen times already, only surviving through miracles and conveniently arriving healers from distant lands. It was almost as if, he had been writing the show the entire time. \n\nKyle couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that once he left the set of the War, he would never return, despite the script. That Octavian had somehow convinced the others that he should survive their duel, narrowly avoiding death. Again. \n\nIf only there were some sort of evidence … but there was nothing. Octavian was a professional. No one ever made contact with the writers.\n\n“You look lovely,” Miranda smiled, touching off Kyle’s black eye. “I guess I won’t be seeing you again for a few days.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Say hi to the King for me, superstar!”\n\nA moment later, Kyle was shuffled off the set and onto the stinking field that housed the show’s hundreds of horses and battle equipment. He nodded his thanks as the assistants set down a movable set of wooden stairs in front of the prisoner wagon.\n\nKyle stood at the top stair for a long moment, looking back on the set. His planned escape and slaying of Octavian would put King George in a brief position to win the war. It wouldn’t be until a few weeks that he would learn how King Ender would get back to even ground. That was the way of the show. One of the Kings temporarily gaining an edge thanks to some genius battleplan only to, shortly thereafter, be outmatched by the other. It was all a balancing act made possible by the writers. \n\nThis was the most extreme plot yet. Kyle figured he would likely live to see even crazier stunts as the show marched on … if everything went to plan of course.\n\nBetter safe than sorry. Taking a deep breath, Kyle grabbed a short knife from the barrel next to the wagon and stashed it within one of the pockets of his ruined Commander’s coat. Octavian wouldn’t let himself be killed off. Kyle had never been surer of anything in his life. \n\nHe sat patiently as some of the former soldiers arrived to convincingly bind his wrists and ankles. \n\nThe opposing Commander sauntered over to the wagon fifteen minutes later, two of the goddesses introduced in the second season hanging on his every word. He dismissed them with a wave and a smile, and the two soldiers rode off into the night to thunderous applause. \n\nOctavian waited until several miles had passed before speaking. “It’s been a long journey for both us,” he said softly, blue eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “However, my ascent is only just beginning.”\n\n____\nThanks for reading! I could write more if anyone is interested.\n\n(Edit: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/creatorcorvin/comments/8noc2f/the_war_2/))\n\n(Edit 2: Wrong word)\n" ]	9
	[WP] “Using engineered viral agents, the oblivious human test subjects are replaced cell by cell with superior synthetic counterparts; bone and muscle is reinforced and eventually replaced with carbon nanotubes; when Project: ANKH is finished, we will have evolved our species within one generation”	[ "\"Using engineered viral agents, the oblivious human test subjects are replaced cell by cell with superior synthetic counterparts; bone and muscle is replaced with carbon nanotubes; when Project ANKH is finished, we will have evolved our species within one generation.\"\n\nThat's what the proposal had said, what they promised their investors.\n\nIt was meant to be for the rich, those whose fortunes qualified them to be a member of the new advent of humanity.\n\nThe phrase \"Avarice is the root of all evil\" has been around for well over a century for a reason.\n\nBeatrix stared out the glass of a large, opulent doorway - she stood in a penthouse, high above the city. \n\nShe stepped closer, pressing her hands against the pane, but not venturing through the door to the balcony.\n\nProject ANKH never lived up to it's promise. Instead of elevating the \"crème de la crème\" to their rightful places as enlightened superior beings... it turned them into monsters. Grotesque, vicious monsters.\n\nThe XTZ conglomerate were their name; the people who tried to play God, but instead reenacted the tale of Icarus - on a scale of horror and destruction too vast and terrible for words alone.\n\nThe viral agents - they had underestimated them. You can't just fuck around with viral bio weapons and repurpose them. They mutated almost immediately, and again, and again and again over and over until it freed itself from their flimsy 'safeguards'. Within weeks of launch, it was spreading. \n\nAt first people -those who didn't understand the implications- were thrilled. Beatrix had been, too. Free enlightenment and evolution to a more advancedd existence, who wouldn't want that? So what if you got a little sick for awhile? What's one cold to potential eternity?\n\n\"Flu parties\" became a trend overnight; those who were sick the guests of honour - though not all of them had the mutated virus. That only made it worse.\n\nThe virus was so adaptable, so prevalent. It attacked, almost consumed the other diseases it came into contact with. Opening itself up further, becoming more advanced - more distorted. Soon it was everywhere, even crossing the species barrier. It was only when people started to move past their gestation period everyone began to realise something wasn't quite right. \n\nDown, down below her, all around her, the city cried out a cacophony of alarms, the roar of flames, sirens, yells, shouts CRIES-SHRIEKS-SCREAMS-CRASH! KKKKKKKRRRIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee\"-\n\n\nThe piercing, inhuman noise sent Beatrix flinching back from the glass, swiftly flipping her body and pressing herself against the solid lining beside the glass portal. Her breathing was slow, steady and quiet; though this was more due to necessity and not at all evidence of a still heart or mind.\n\n* \"Ke-ke-ke-keriiiiiii-kshhhhhh-ki-kikikiiiiiii\" \n\nA thud. And another, and then against the glass - a slow, leisurely scrape.\n\nBeatrix's heart rate intensified, the roar of blood and fear in her ears. She could just barely hear the clack-clack* of talons against the balcony's tiles above the frantic drumming in her chest.\n\nPainfully, slowly, with her breth held, she moved one hand and edged it towards the machete belted to her side. Her other hand flipped the catch on her holster open and loosened her gun - just in case. \n\nShe waited a moment, hand ready to draw, trying desperately to breath quietly quiet shh calm ohgodstayquiet.\n\nHer heart rose to a staccato.\n\nShe could hear it. Hear it's rasping inhalation. The clicks it made with its... whatever they were.\n\nShe heard the clink of bio-fucking-engineered-claws on the dainty, metal table outside.\n\nShe tightened her grip on her machete. She couldn't use her gun - not unless she wanted more of them on her. With clenched jaw, a look of determination settled on her face.\n\n\"KrrrR-kiKIiiki-kiirr\" The inhuman, unnerving noise sounded again... closer, even with her heart in her ears. Her breathing becoming unbalanced, her back against the wall, she began pulling her weapon free.\n\nTwo, humongous, serrated talons stabbed clean through the wall, her lower stomach and her chest.\n\nWith a violent \"shiiink!\" they crossed paths and slid past each other - slicing her into four. The pieces, Beatrix, hit the floor with a solid, wet thwack-splat! Her half drawn machete clanged as she did.\n\nThe talons withdrew through the now gaping hole in the wall - the glass beside it shattered from the movements that ended Beatrix.\n\nOne eye, suspended from an almost tentacle like vine, passed through the hole. It moved, surveying the pieces from side to side, all around. \n\nHaving comfirmed a corpse below, it retracted back outside - only for a spiked, bastard child of a scorpion's tail and a syringe to shoot through. It stabbed into one of the hunks of meat, withdrawing something, before deftly snapping back through the wall. \n\nWith a sudden, sharp and shrill scraping noise the monster leapt - on the hunt once again.\n\nEDIT: Sorry for shit formatting in places. On mobile and don't have time to properly edit!", "\"The human tests are complete, so far no known adverse side affects have shown up,\" I announced to the members of our small lab, \"we have succeeded in deciding our own evolution.\" \n\n\n\nI raised the letter above my head, \"we have gotten the go ahead to release the virus into the atmosphere from all the world governments. Project ANKH is to be prepared to go live! Just think, our bodies with replaced with synthetic nanotubes that will never wear out, no more sickness, no more death!” \n\n\n\nCheers from the crowd deafned me, I smiled. I knew it would take months for everyone to be converted, but I only had to hide the true affects our test subjects started displaying until the virus had been released. \n\n\n\n--------\n\n\n\nLater that night I sat in my office across from the lab. I read a medical report of two of the test subjects, a husband and wife. They didn't know they had been affected by the ANKH virus, but they did understand something had changed in them. \n\n\n\nThe couple was an average couple, agreeable and pleasant, happy together. They were expecting their first child when they were infected.\n\n\n\nThe ANKH virus, made the test subjects stronger and unable to get sick, but also made them unable to reproduce. Their first child died in a miscarriage, I wrote that off as being something wrong with the child. It was easy to fudge the data, when you acted as the couple's obstetrician.\n\n\n\nThe woman, after being affected suddenly started to go through menopause, even though she was only 26. All the women in our study went through menopause. The men in our study started to have low to non-existent sperm counts. I also fudged that data. \n\n\n\nThe ANKH virus would make us immortal, but unable to have children. I didn't care, as long as it saved my daughter, cure her illness. To hell with the rest of humanity.\n\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You have the ability to leave your body and wander as a spirit for a specific duration of time. Last night you went to wander and when you came back you see yourself making breakfast.	[ "I stood in front of the kitchen window where a woman with long platinum blonde hair was carrying a pan with a sunny side egg inside. She took a seat at the mahogany table and began to eat her breakfast.\n\nWhat was I doing? \n\nWhere am I supposed to go?\n\nLast night, I went about my routine rendezvous about the city, while my body was resting away safely in my bed. As usual, I visited the lake and sat there watching the ducks swim along. My husband joined me shortly after, putting my mind at ease. I always worry each night whether this would be the last…whether he will pass over to the other side. Ever since he passed away, I found it hard to let go. Rather than cry myself to sleep each night, I found another way to cope—to become a spirit and interact with him again.\n\nI’m supposed to return back and reunite my body, but it seems like I’m doing just fine going about my morning. \n\nI crept inside the home and tried to draw attention to me, but knew that it would be pointless. \n\nWhat if I never get my body back? \n\nAfter failed attempts of drawing attention to a spirit in the house, I left and went over to the graveyard.\n\nJulien Gloon. \n\nI banged on his coffin door and tried to wake him up, but there was no luck as he would only be set free at night. So I waited till night drew near and his spirit crept out of the grave in search of me.\n\n“Julien!” I shouted.\n\n“Iliana..why aren’t you by the lake?” he said drawing near me and stroking my cheek.\n\n“There’s something wrong!”\nBefore asking me what was wrong, he searched my face to give him any telltale signs of what occurred. Seeming that he couldn’t find any clues, he asked me what has caused me distress.\n\n“Someone is in my body.” \n\nJulien continued to stare at my face, acting like he didn’t see how that could cause anyone such worry.\n\n“Did you hear me Julien? Someone is in my body! I can’t return in it unless they leave.” \n\n“Well, look at it this way. Now you can spend time with me..forever.”\n\n“I always spend time with you what do you mean? I need to get back to my body!”\n\n“What’s the point if you’re just going to be alone though Il? It’s not like you have that much to lose.”\n\nI was shocked at the words he threw at me.\n\n“Excuse me. I will get past the low point in my life and move on. One day Julien. I’ll have to whether I like it or not because I know you’ll just pass over.”\n\n“Julien…” I said.\n\nHe looked up at me.\n\n“Do you have anything to do with this?”\n", "Sometimes when I can’t help physically someone, I have to help in another way and astral form is one of them. Most of the time it works perfectly, sometimes I return with a headache or worse, but this time was a first…\n\nLast night, one of my friends needed my help but I was in Europe and him in Australia.\n\nWhen the moon was high in the sky, I prepared the ritual to ‘go out’. And no, the ritual doesn’t contain drugs. It’s mainly to protect myself from ‘intruders’.\n\nSo short, I protected myself and went out to help my friend.\n\nGosh, it took so long to help those ghosts to go to the light, that the sun went down.\n\nWhen I came back to my body, it wasn’t where I left it.\n\nDid I miss something of the ritual? I thought back what I did and no, there wasn’t any mistake.\n\nHearing some footstep downstairs, I saw my body eating breakfast … asleep.\n\nTrying to regain my body, something went wrong … every time I touch my body, i’m repulsed.\n\nAfter watching my body carefully, I knew my mistake… I surprotected my body.\n\nCould you help me to disable it, please??\n\n\\-\\-\\-\n\nThis is my first try to write a fiction in english. I happily take advice or criticism :\\)", "When everyone else is sleeping, I like to go and wander around. Why? I like the night. While others get nervous going out after hours, for me it’s quite relaxing. The quiet streets, the city lights, and when its dark, no one really cares if you’re simply lounging around, thinking, enjoying the view. Unlike in the day, where one should look busy and important. Otherwise, you’d be seen as a bum, or, god forbid, a kid. \n\nOne of my favorite pastimes is people watching. Usually, people don’t care how they look at these hours. If they do, they’re probably out with people, or they want to get laid. Or both. I enjoy this, simply because I’m a fly in the wall. No one usually sees me, but I get to see everything. There’s something so thrilling about those two facts. I know the best spots to see most of the action while remaining unseen. \n\nDo you want in on these spots?\nWell, frankly, you probably can’t. You need to be up high, usually.\nYou see, I’m an ethereal being. \n\nYes, “that shit” exists. We usually enjoy being discreet and unknown, but quite a few do thrive on the attention and fear from the physical human beings. Those beings are usually from dead humans, or those particularly troubled. \n\nAnyway, back to me. I usually watch people in clubs around the world, see what they’re really like, and how different countries interact in these places. You probably can’t tell much, because of the boozy haze and the loud, distracting music. I hate these places, because I typically like other, “refined” genres of music. But honestly, I’m extremely jealous of those people, savoring the sweat of their dancing partners, mingling, and flirting, finding a warm body to spend the night with and feel less alone. Even if I could, it’d probably end up disastrously. I have social anxiety and poor self-esteem. Well, that’s what you get for being a spirit, eh? Alone in the dark, as always. I don’t run in to many other spirits, too.\n\nOther than my loneliness, being a spirit is actually quite nice. I get to be away from my human host, for one. I mean, he slaves through his job most of the day. More often than not, he’s on Quora, a smoke break, or on Reddit, though, because he works fast, or he doesn’t get enough tasks. Also, even at night, he still thinks about work. I applaud his dedication, but I know he’s tired from this, mostly because he’s not getting paid enough. Even a healthy lifestyle is too expensive for him. And all this negativity affects my well-being, too. \nThankfully, he’s on vacation today, and it’s given him some time to think, and actually relax, enjoy life. What’s it like to be me - walking around with no necessary purpose.\nYou really take a toll from the 9-6 life (usually ends up being a 24-hour thing because he has nothing better to do). This means I’ve had some time to decompress, too. \n\nSometimes, I just want to smack him right in the face. He needs to tidy up his life, and move away from the toxicity. But no, he’s too afraid of big changes. Even on taking this vacation, he actually wanted to decline, and just work. God, the life of this guy, huh. \n\nI do wonder if he’s aware of my presence, though. I think he’s on to something - poor timing on my part led him to being conscious on my arrival. He caught me moments before selection and transfer, and because of that, he saw what I saw - me watching his life (he was reading a book with his mother at age 4), and me speeding through space and into Earth, and into his body. He never really thought much about me.\n\nHeh, I’ve been going on too long, have I? I think I should go back to my host. All this wandering and thinking, I missed the sunrise. My human might wake soon.\n\n\nUh, he’s not on his bed? Let me check the bathroom, maybe he fell asleep there.. nope, not there.\n\nShit. Where is he? I know he couldn’t be awake. No human host has awaken before us spirits have returned. Well, my human tried to, and he ended up shaking on his bed like a crazy fish out of water, unable to consciously move any muscle. Heh. \n\nSomething smells good in the kitche-\n\nOh, no. \n\n“Oh, hello.”\n\nWhat is he doing conscious and awake?\n\n“I’ve just finished cooking breakfast. I finally caught you out. We need to talk.”\nShit, what is this about? Damn, I really don’t know what to do in this situation.\n\nIs another soul residing in your body?\n\n“I can’t tell. But I’ve been having these dreams. Dreams about you, actually. Numerous dreams about your existence. I’ve been getting them in cryptic pieces, until earlier, when I pieced them all together in the dream.”\n\nWho told you? Who fed you the information? You can’t know this. This is CLASSIFIED. You must be-\n\n“Terminated? No. Do you think that the viewers of this live video would like to see me choke to death? Considering I’ve wrote a letter stating my knowledge to the private audience of this video, any action you take against me will only provide proof of my seemingly bullshit statement.”\n\nFUCK. This isn’t fucking happening. Someone fucking snap me out of my dream. Oh, wait, only he can, and he’s fucking AWAKE, idiot. \n\nWhat do you want me to do?\n\n“Good. Let’s talk. With them. There’ll be a plane ticket waiting for us later in the afternoon.”\n\nShit.", "When I was a kid, I used to ask my dad a lot of questions about how stuff worked (why does a soap dissolve in water but we don't, why does the sun change colour, etc.), but he was never one for heady scientific discussions. My parents were not highly educated and much of science seemed like magic to them. My curiosity was a futile endeavour that I soon abandoned as I came to internalise many physical phenomenon as unquestionable truths. \n\nI stopped asking why. Everything just was. \n\nOnce I saw a news report on TV about a team of researchers trying to reduce sleeping hours, which take up to 8 hours of every day, to make humanity more productive. This made my 6-year old self really uncomfortable.\n \nWhat the hll was sleep? \n\nEvery night, my mom would sing me a lullaby that would transport me to... another place. It was a new yet familiar place every time. It felt less solid than the normal place, like things were not real here yet. Or like I was looking through rain time windows.\n\nI would find myself doing strange things in these places. Once, I had a car which I drove for an hour to reach this huge, I mean really big, biggest I've ever seen, glass building. It seemed infinitely big. Despite it's gargantuan size, I occupied in it a really small square within which was a desk and a screen which I stared at for 8 hours. \n\nAfter a while, I would hear my mom's voice again and be pulled back into the normal place. I had done this for as long as I remember. \n\nThis one had been longer than usual, though it was really hard to tell time in this place. This time, I was making breakfast for my 2 kids (I had kids, Peter and Gemma), when a man clad in a translucent bedsheet floated in through the window. I knew my kids couldn't see him which was tragic, considering they were really his* kids.\n\nIt spoke in a ghostly voice, language intertwined with emotion,\n\n\"Dude, we're both so fucked.\"\n\nHaw, he used a curse word!\n\n\n\n\n\n", "“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted. \n\nWell, not exactly shouted, really, as I was still a spirit at the time. Spirits are pretty limited on the vocal spectrum, y’know? My first option had been to summon up all of my ghostly strength and focus it into a kind of supernatural wailing screech. While not particularly eloquent, the general sentiment of ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ would definitely have been conveyed. However, I'd been out all night, and was pretty knackered, so the option wasn't appealing. So, option two it was, which was an even bigger hassle, to be honest. \n\nFirstly, I had to possess an object. Secondly, I had to write my irate message on the wall using the object. I chose ketchup. It was readily accessible, more viscous than the maple syrup, and more vicious looking than the mustard, due to its crimson hue. Spooky, right? (Also, why was the mustard even OUT at breakfast-time? What type of monster was I dealing with here?) Anyways, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” was the message I wrote on my wall, in all capital letters, to imply the shouting. In retrospect, “What the Hell?” or even a large interabang might have sufficed. Now I’m out of ketchup. Just great.\n\nMy body, and whoever was at the controls, lazily transferred egg from pan to plate. Loose yolk ran from the egg's center and mingled with the potatoes, the potatoes I had been saving for this very breakfast, a breakfast that would soon be inside of me without me being inside of me. Slowly my body turned, a blithe smile on its stupid sleepy morning face, crumbs of toast in yesterday’s 5-o’clock shadow turned 7am penumbra. God my body's a wreck. I guess that's half the reason I leave it most nights... \n\nThen, finally, FINALLY, my brain’s new driver noticed the writing on the wall, in a completely non-idiomatic way. Said writing was now sliding down the tile like icing off of hot cupcake.\n\nThe brain-driver stopped my body.\n\nI waited.\n\n“Hello?” it said.\n\nI waited some more. My body gazed vaguely upward. Spirits do tend to reside ‘up’ and not ‘down’ in a general sense, so this wasn't entirely ignorant. My body then spun 300 degrees, bumped into the pan that was also 300 degrees, and jumped back.\n\n“Hello?” it repeated\n\nI waited.\n\n“Hello?” it re-repeated.\n\nDOES HE EXPECT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE? I’M OUT OF GODDAMN KETCHUP! ANSWER THE QUESTION! WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU-\n\n“WOOOOOHOOHOOO” \n\nI involuntarily ghost-screeched, newfound rage providing a good enough impetus to focus the sound-waves. In truth, the wail was pretty impotent and distant sounding. I was definitely capable of better. Nonetheless, it got the conversation moving again.\n\n“Ah,” said my body, far too casually. “This is yours I assume?” He pointed to my body with a loaded fork, then snuck a bite of potato that I could not taste. \n\nI hate him.\n\n“Look, I just need it for an hour or so,” said my voice. “Maybe you could find a loaner?”\n\nThis isn’t musical chairs... screw this guy. I flung my spirit towards my corporal form, waiting for the bright flash of light, the slow disorienting return of my five senses, a consciousness seen through my own myopic squishy eyeballs. \n\nNothing happened.\n\n“Yeah…” said my body, smiling again. “Not yet. I need an hour.”\n\nThis affront would not stand. I was getting my me back right now. My body took another bite, clearly mocking me. Suddenly, an idea occurred (a concept which continued to puzzle me, as my brain, often used for my thinking, was being run by some jerk at the time.) Regardless, I followed through and possessed something else. No, not some dumb condiment. I was not writing another treatise. I don’t negotiate with kidnappers. \n\nIn a flash, I was in his breakfast. My breakfast. I WAS BREAKFAST. And I was getting back into my body one way or another…\n", "I'd always reveled in the escape this astral projection ability gave me. The ability to leave reality behind while I explored the world was like an addiction I couldn't put down. The freedom, the possibilities. Too many sleepless nights eased after a soothing trip soaring the skies. \nOne such night, I lay awake in bed, staring tiredly at the digital clock on my bedside table.\n\n 3:42 AM. \n\n\n\"I used to go to sleep at 10, what happened?\" I mumbled into my pillow. \n\n\n3:45 AM. \n\n\n\"...right, no longer any reason to.\" \nI gave up on my attempts for unconsciousness as I slumped deeper into the bed, pulling my sense of self into my core as I emerged as a spirit, and floated out the window.\n\n--------\n\nI had just finished watching the sun rise over the ocean when I realized it was long past the time when I would have felt the tugging that signified my body pulling my spirit back to my physical form. A jogger on the beach passed below me, and I flew a bit lower to glance at the time displayed on their smartwatch.\n\n\n6:40 AM\n\n\n\"Shit, so it's 8:40 back home!?\" I immediately darted around and started speeding back, my astral form leaving blue wisps of ethereal energy in my wake.\nI was way past time. This had never happened before, what if something had happened to my body? Below, the land flew past me, highways and state welcome signs blurring together in my haste.\n\nWhat if I couldn't go back? \n\nI slowed down a bit as I approached my city. \n\nWould that be so bad?\n\nI was at my building. At my window, I could see the shades were already open. Sun was shining into my freshly made bed and as I passed through the glass I could hear the sound of humming coming from the kitchen. After a moment, I realized the humming was my voice, though slightly more in tune than usual, and I could smell scrambled eggs and pancakes. I poked my head through the wall and saw my body, freshly showered with a towel around its neck, wearing a clean shirt and pants, and humming a new tune I'd never heard before as it flipped pancakes onto a plate next to a pile of eggs. It looked up and then straight at me, and then I was face to face with... my face. Behind those brown eyes, I could see a faint essence of that same wispy ethereal energy that accompanied my astral form, though these wisps were paler green compared to the blue wisps that were sparking out of my form amidst my worry.\n\n\"Forgive me for intruding,\" the spirit said, my body going into a half bow towards my direction as the lips curled into the shape of a smile, \"but it's just been so long since I've been able to cook I just couldn't resist.\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------------\n\nHi, first time posting, probably will continue this later but my ideas are all over the place.", "In those first dark days after my son died, as I lay in bed crying myself to sleep, praying for a chance to see him just one more time, I realized I was looking at myself. I was literally standing next to my bed, looking at myself laying there, motionless. \n\n“Daddy?” \n\nHis voice was soft and week, as he looked up at me. Forgetting everything else, I hugged him. \n\n“But Daddy, does this mean you’re dead, too?”\n\n“I don’t really know, and right now, I don’t care. I’m so glad to see you again.” \n\nWe had a wonderful night together, but when my alarm clock went off in the morning, I woke up, in my body. I thought it had been a wonderful dream. \n\nThat night, desperate, I tried it again. It worked, and I’ve left my body every night since, to spend time with my little boy. \n\nIt is such a blessing that I can have this ‘life’ with him, and live my normal life during the day, though people look at me with such sadness when I slip up and talk about him in the present tense. \n\nI usually spend every second wandering the world with him, playing on playgrounds, or in the children’s museum, or at the zoo, until my alarm goes off and I’m ripped away from him and back in the living world. \n\nThis morning, we were still together when the sun came up. I thought my alarm must have not gone off, and I didn’t know what would happen if my body was found, so I rushed home. \n\nI didn’t even reach the bedroom; I am watching him - me - standing in the kitchen, pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. I don’t know what to do. I have never been out of my body while awake, as far as I know. I have no idea how to get back in, or what will happen next. ", "Sixty eight times I've done this, usually when I can't sleep. It helps to go for a walk and clear my head.\n\nIt just so happens I don't have to actually go for a walk. I don't know how it's possible but I can just sort of leave the meat suit behind. I asked a doctor once and they threw me some meds to help \"even me out\" and I stopped bringing it up.\n\nOf course I might have given the doc a good scare for a night just to make myself feel better, but that's not really the point.\n\nLast night was one of those nights. They don't happen all that often but when they do I figure that wandering as a spectre is better than tossing and turning.\n\nSo I went for an amble through the zoo. Couple animals are more active at night so I get to see them actually doing thing. I tried doing the library once but I can't touch the books. So...you know. That's not fun.\n\nWhen the time rolls around and the sun starts coming up, I head back.\n\nAnd that's where this all became a bit more interesting than usual. Or terrifying, I think might be the appropriate word.\n\nCause there I am, standing in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee and frying bacon. But...I'm out here. The meat suit isn't supposed to be up and moving without me. So, yeah.\n\nI reach out and it's like touching a brick wall. The flesh is real, it's sealed against me. If I had a heart it would be pounding right now.\n\nI eat a piece of bacon and turn to right where I am, which doesn't make sense either. You can't see spirits. Then I grin at myself.\n\nGod this is confusing.\n\n\"You probably have questions.\" My body crunches the bacon, way too crispy, obviously. And my body stares right at me. But my eyes are wrong, they're not a blue-ish gray. They're brown.\n\nOh. Shit. It's not me.\n\nSomeone is wearing the meat suit.\n\n\"There it is. Now he gets it.\"\n\n\"Get out of my body!\" I would hit me if I wasn't my biggest fan. Someone has stolen me from me. Not getting any less confusing.\n\n\"You shouldn't wander, especially when you don't know who might be watching. Some of us miss having a body as much as you seem to like leaving yours.\"\n\n\"Get out!\" I hit my body with everything I have, I've learned a few tricks wandering around. Like how to manifest the spirit into physical power. My body doesn't move. Just grins and eats another piece of bacon.\n\nThen my body picks up a knife from the kitchen sink and holds it against my own arm.\n\n\"Try that again, it doesn't fit right anyway. And it's not mine, it's a rental.\"\n\nI shake and rage at this thieving prick and then I do something new. I shout but it doesn't come out as a shout, it comes out as a high pitched noise that rises and rises until all the windows in the apartment blast outward.\n\nHe, me, is unfazed, holding the remnants of the coffee pot in one hand and watching the liquid splash on the floor.\n\n\"Impressive enough, best be careful though. There's things out there that are drawn by that sort of stuff. Things that you won't like. I'll just a coffee out there, I hear good things about this Starbucks. You should hang out here. I'll be back later.\"\n\nWhat can I do? He'd destroy my body if I tried. Before I can think of anything he is leaving, taking my body out there. Without me.\n\n\"Don't wait up!\" And with that, the door slams shut.\n\nThe city comes to life slowly, cars and talking and laughter and of course the ever-present sirens. Somewhere beyond all that I hear something, not a good something, and ethereal noises...wailing almost.\n\n\"Shit.\" I say to no one in particular. \"That just can't be good.\"" ]	8
	[WP] And the Lord said unto John, "Come forth and you will receive eternal life", but John came fifth, and won a toaster. You're John.	[ "John wakes up to his alarm and looks at time time. It is 4:25 pm.\nOh shit! I'm late He thinks to himself. \nHe shuffles out of bed, grabs his nicest clothes in a hurry and runs out the door.\nHis car, an old and rusty Volkswagen Beetle has some trouble starting. \n\"The hell is this now?\" He says to himself, getting increasingly nervous by the minute. \nI will be late yet again to the big meeting with the man upstairs.\nFinally the old rustbucket kicks to life and John speeds away. He hits every single red light and wonders what he did to deserve this unholy bad luck on such an important day.\n\nJohn arrives at the headquarters of his workplace. The big bright letters read HOLY TRINITY UNLIMITED. Hurrying in through the employee doors he realizes he had forgotten his shoes.\nDo I go back to get them? Will he notice? his inner voice is telling him as the anxiety sets in.\nHe will risk it, the big man will not be bothered with such an inconsequential thing as shoes.\nOn the top floor, John approaches a great marble door. On the door, engraved in large golden letters is written GOD, THE LORD OF ALL CREATION. \nJohn hesitates outside before he knocks nervously in the door.\n\"COME IN JOHN\" a booming voice calls from inside the room.\nInside four people are standing in line, Peter, Mary, Lucas and even the dimwitted mailroom worker, Joshua is already there.\n\"YOU'RE LATE JOHN. TAKE A SEAT\" God says unto John. \"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AN HOUR AGO. EVEN JOSH WAS HERE BEFORE YOU, AND HE'S AN IDIOT!\"\n\"Hey, aww.\" Josh sighs and looks at his own feet. \"Hey, John. Did you know you're not wearing shoes? I like those bunny slippers though.\"\n\"Shut up Josh.\" John get in line behind Josh, he smells a bit strange, like he's been rooting around in trash again. \n\nAs God listens to each and every word of his employees, John gets increasingly nervous that he won't get that big promotion he has been waiting for his entire adult life.\nIt is not his turn to have a word with God.\n\"S-s-sorry I am late sir, I had a spot of bad luck getting here, car trouble and such.\"\n\"WHY DO YOU STILL DRIVE THAT RUSTY PEACE OF SHIT? YOU KNOW THE COMPANY CAN SUPPLY YOU WITH WINGS, FREE OF CHARGE.\"\n\"I know sir, I just like the cars. It's one of the few decent inventions these humans have created.\" Sweat starts to run down his forehead.\n\"OKAY, SO LOOK, YOU ARE A GREAT WORKER. A REAL TEAM PLAYER, GOOD FOR THE MORALE.\"\n\"Why, th-thank you sir. I try-\"\n\"BUT. YOU CAME IN LATE TODAY. WHILE ALL THE OTHERS BEFORE YOU CAME ON TIME, THEY RECEIVED ETERNAL LIFE. NOW I HAVE SIMPLY RUN OUT OF THIS PARTICULAR GIFT.\"\nOh damn, I was too late. What will I do with my life now? How can I face my wife without eternal life. are one of the few thoughts running through his head as the realisation sets in.\n\"But s-sir, there must be something you can do, right? You are God after all.\" John feels his throat dry up as he mumbles to himself, \"God that can't give one measly little person his wish\"\n\"I WILL PRETEND I DIDN'T HEAR THAT.\" God says with a slight anger in his voice. \"LOOK, I CAN GIVE YOU SOMETHING ELSE...\" God looks around his office, searching for something to give to John. \"...HERE, HAVE THIS TOASTER.\"\n\"Is it some kind of devine toaster? Can it slow down the passage of time? Infinite amount of bread?\" John asks hopefully.\n\"WELL, YES AND NO. IT TOASTS BREAD BUT YOU HAVE TO SUPPLY IT. IT ALSO TOASTS THE FACE OF MY SON ONTO EACH AND EVERY SLICE. \"\n\"Woow ... that-that's amazing. Thank you, really.\"\n\nJohn left the meeting with his head down, feeling defeated and dissappointed.\n" ]	1
	[WP] You take your regular night boat ride at the small lake close to your house. You drift asleep as soon as fog begins to roll in, and you wake on an island that you've never see before, with another person in the boat with you.	[ "My head was groggy and I could taste blood in my mouth. That bitter, coppery taste that makes you want to wash your mouth or vomit.\n\nMy head was killing me, and the fog all around the boat made it impossible to see. Why wasn’t I home yet? I thought to myself. The boat ride is so short, and I’ve taken it a million times since I moved here a few years ago.\n\nThe old river boat was mostly made from wood. It creaked and whistled in all the wrong places, and it sometimes felt like it was only held together by ropes, glue and the sheer will of the captain alone.\n\n“Hello stranger” a voice called out next to me. I was lying on my back in the passenger compartment below deck. It had windows all around to see outside, and plenty of chairs. But they were all vacant expect for the one this person was sitting in.\n\nHe was an elderly man, in his late middle age. He had a bushy beard and large, square reading glasses that covered most of his upper face. I had to crane my neck a bit to see him from my position.\n\n“Hey” I said. “Where are we?”\n\n“Beats me son, I woke up here same as you. Got that funky taste in yer mouth?”\n\n“Yeah, would kill for a drink”.\n\n“Me too”.\n\n“Why aren’t we at the dock? And where is everyone?”\n\n“Everyone’s dead” came a loud booming voice from the entrance of the deck. It was the captain. He was even older than the other man, with a clean, pressed uniform.\n\n“Wait...what?”\n\n“Everyone’s dead and they ain’t coming back?”.\n\n“Who do you mean everyone?” said the middle aged man, joining the confusing conversation.\n\n“Take a look out the window”.\n\nI stood up from the cold wooden floor and walked over to the window. The middle aged man did the same.\n\nAt first I could only see fog and I said as much.\n\n“How are we expected to see anything?”\n\n“Take a closer look son” said the middle aged man. He had a terrible, frightened look on his face, one that a small child have.\n\nI did as he asked, and when I really focussed, I could see it. A giant vortex, up in the sky. It spewed out fire, and lightning. And storming out of the centre were creatures. Winged creatures flying down to the lake. Their razor sharp teeth gnashing as they did so.\n\nI turned in horror to the captain. He looked me dead pan in the face.\n\n“Get ready boys, they’re coming in for a second round”." ]	1
	[WP] You are an ancient god of pure evil, aeons ago you were banished to an alternate dimension. Your cultist have finally succeeded in summoning you. The only problem is that you actually like the alternate dimension better	[ "Burning, swirling fires, chanting and groaning, phlegm and corpses, shapes and sygils, burning, swirling. The recognition dawned on the beast in the Eye, this was the ritual he had created.\n\"Our lord is returned\" exclaimed a devotee, \"Ripped from the hellscape in which you were imprisoned\"\nThe booming, bellowing, behemoth voice, reverberating through mountains and valleys answered his follower\n\"Steady on, thats my home yer talking about there. Who are ya anyways, yer quite small for most races. Hang on, yer not human are yer?\"\n\"Indeed great Devourer, we be but mortals, less so in your presence.\"\n\"Oh fer fucks sake, not Earth, anywhere but Earth, why d'you bring me back to this shithole?\"\n\"Earth ain't that bad\" a lone voice sailed to the titan\n\"Shut yer face, the word 'Earth' literally means dirt, only thing worse would be if it were Plutonian fer shithole. Nah, nah, nah, nah, I'm not sticking round here again, not consciouse anyway. You imps still ferment shit?\"", "\"Oh, I know what you like,\" the kneeling, servile being murmured. Say what you will, the formless, colorless, smoke\\-beings were excellent worshipers, handling every single one of My concerns. \n\n\nEvery. \n\n\nSingle. \n\n\nConcern. \n\n\nI smiled, replying, \"Good. Start with the dishes.\" Little did it know, the mound of dishes would never be clean, nor would it ever decrease. In fact, for every dish the being washed, three more would appear. It was one of My finer inventions, inspired by My college roommate, X'thuri. I chuckled slightly, before feeling a slight tug...something I hadn't felt in eons.\n\n\"What the FAAAAAAAAAAAAAA \\-\" I screamed. My body vanished, being torn through dimensions. Shattered passersby spattered My face; their innards spread across Me. I had no idea when it would stop, nor where. \n\n\n\"CK!\"\n\nI spat, blue ichor trailing from my jaws. Being yanked into another dimension wasn't the worst . In fact, it ranked slightly below waking up with a persistent hangover. However, My fury at being stolen from My paradise... that was for whatever mortal had brought me, and unto their dimension My wrath would fall. You know, typical Evil God work.\n\nX'thuri was never as good at it as I. Instead, he was more...Minor Annoyances. \n\n\n'I'll get back at him later; first, though,' I thought. I turned. \n\n\n\"WHO HAS AWOKEN ME, IGNI\\-CEDRA, DARKEST AMONGST THE STARS?\" I roared. I was rather impressive; my roar even impressed Myself. I made a mental note to work on My roar more often. \n\n\n\"Igni\\-Cedra, Darkest among Stars. I, Anton Pitr Rasnov, called you to this plane.\" There was a human, a human, in front of me. I raised an eyebrow, looking for the first time at my surroundings. \n\n\n'White candles, jagged symbols...is...is that a *pentagram*?! In a *circle*?! What in the Seven Thousand Hells does he THINK he's doing?' My carefully skeptical pose remained. \n\n\n\"And you are....?\" I asked, toning my roar down to more manageable levels. He would have hearing for the next five years, instead of the next three seconds.\n\n\"I, Anton Pitr Rasnov, am your True Priest; we are in need of Your Cleansing Flame unleashed upon this plane.\" He began. As he gasped for air, I rolled my hand. He now raised an eyebrow. \n\n\n\"Get on with it.\" He looked fairly relieved I wasn't about to hang him with his own innards.\n\n\"Ah. Yes. Well, this plane has been tainted. Far too many of us have fallen into new ways, losing sight of our fears in the Everpresent Dark. We require your Flame to reignite those fea\\-\" his eyes bulged as I gripped his throat between two fingers. I raised him to My eye level. \n\n\n\"What. Did. you. Say?\"\n\n\"We need your Cleansing Flame to \\- \" \n\"No. About the Dark.\" \n\n\n\"We humans no longer fear it! We want to know more! We want to dance among the Stars, disregarding the Elders who live there!\" He was like a recording, spitting out something some old priest of Mine once misinterpreted. \n\n\nI had said I never wanted to be Called again to this backwater planet. I had never wanted to Burn it in the first place... but, again, X'thuri, college, things got out of hand five, maybe six, thousand times. The Dark was Our way of keeping humans...human.\n\nI sighed, setting My...human...thing down. \"Look, I really hate to do this, again, but My Fire doesn't work like that.\" He gasped, beginning to rant and rave about some Sacred Texts of the Unholiest Unholy Beings.\n\nMy eyebrow raised again. \"First off, I was HORRIFICALLY intoxicated when those were written. Secondly,\" I began ticking points off on my fingers. I already missed My paradise. \n\n\n\"And lastly, I should *NEVER HAVE BEEN SUMMONED* because *YOU* are *AFRAID* of the *DARK!\" Emphasis mine. He was finally stunned into silence. \n\n\n\"Now, if you don't mind, I have some eternal evils to get back to. Mind uh...wait, hold on, incoming signal,\" I waved my hand around. A silent whirlwind broke through each arcane design and protection. He gasped, looking properly terrified. \n\n\n\"As I was saying, if you don't mind, I have some eternal evils to get back to. Namely...\" I raised my leg and pounded, flipping through the ground back to My paradise. \n\n\n\"The dishes.\"", "The figures, lit only by the light of the full moon, stood in a circle around a black obsidian stone carved with ancient runes. They chanted a horrible chant in an inhuman tongue. One figure came forward, towards the stone, holding a young bleating goat in his hands. As he approached the stone, the kid seemed to anticipate its fate and its cries grew louder and more desperate.\n\nThe robed figure spoke practiced words in the strange language and slit the throat of the small animal. He drew a pentagram on the black stone with its blood and stepped back. The shape outlined in blood began to glow a deep red, brighter and brighter. Lightning flashed across the sky. The world itself seemed to let out a scream of pain. There was a blinding flash and a tall horned humanoid figure stood on the dark obsidian stone.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe being was roughly seven feet tall. It had the legs of a goat and the upper body of a man. Its hands ended in long sharp claws. Its eyes were jet black with red pupils. Two blood-red horns rose from its head. Its hair was fashioned into a ponytail. It was wearing a tie-dye shirt, shorts, and its hooves were in comfortable sandals.\n\n\"Hey guys,\" it said.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe cultists all kneeled and lowered their heads. Their leader, his robes still glistening in the moonlight with the blood of the slain kid spoke. \"We are your subjects, O great Lord of Evil-\"\n\n\"Please,\" said the demon, \"call me Larry.\"\n\n\"We are your subjects, O great... Larry of Evil. We are but your slaves. We wish to serve you as you unleash the primeval horrors and cleanse the word of light and virtue with fires of poisonous rage. You are now freed from an aeon of torment and your reign of one thousand years shall begin.\"\n\n\"Aw geez guys, I was really going through some stuff back then. I’ve had an eternity to think about things and I’m really not that kind of guy anymore.\"\n\n\"You are not the primordial demon of evil, the eldritch god who was banished in the ancient forgotten past and who would return to destroy the world and remake it in darkness, free of all that is good? Was this not foretold in the Demonicon and the mad ravings of the forlorn monk of the forbidden monastery?\" The lead cultist sounded worried.\n\n\"No, I mean that was me, but I’ve changed, man. That wasn’t me, you feel it? I was going through some heavy stuff. You might say some personal demons.\" He smiled at his joke. \"Since I was banished I’ve had time to reflect and I’ve really worked on myself. I’ve gotten in touch with my feelings.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe cultists were whispering to each other in confusion. Some of them were visibly disappointed. Others were still trying to figure out what happened. A few were pinching themselves, trying to wake up from what they could only assume was a dream.\n\nOne of the cultists asked, \"Lord… Larry, do you no longer have an unholy power greater than the gods of the mortal plane to cleanse the earth of its light?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Larry, \"I mean, yeah, technically, but I found a greater power. The power of music, man. The power of art. The power in us* as spiritual beings. Hey man, what year is it?\"\n\n\"It’s 1962.\"\n\n\"Okay guys, let me hop back into the demon plane real quick and get my guitar. You guys are still down to follow me?\"\n\nThere was some grumbling, but eventually with some reluctance, the leader of the cultists said, \"yes, we swore a blood oath on the first moon of the new age.\"\n\n\"New age, I like that sound of that. You two,\" he pointed to two of the cultists, \"go find a van. You three, get some guitars, tambourines, and other instruments. You, get some clothing dye and T-shirts. I’ll also need some crystals and beads. We’re going to light the world on fire, man. On fire with peace and love.\"" ]	3
	[WP] In your house there is a window that cannot be opened. When you look out from that window, you don't see your world.	[ "You put blackout curtains on the window the day after you moved in, just because the sight of it gave you migraines. When you had first gone through the house, you hadn't noticed it at all—it looks so close to what should be out there that you just thought it was the same view at first glance. But the day you moved in, it caught your eye. You tried to force open the window, but all that had happened was the white paint chipped off into your sweaty palms. You stepped back with a heavy sigh: that was when the throbbing behind your eyes started. Everything outside of the window had a slight haze, like a glitching photo. It reminded you of the static on a TV, ready to reach out and shock anyone who got too close. \n\nSo you went out to the store that day and got the curtains, having to look up a tutorial on how to hang them when you got home. But the headache had stopped as soon as you yanked them shut and you haven't opened them since then. Nobody asks about it—rarely anybody sees it anyway, since it's in your bedroom. \n\nBut one day, when you're half asleep, your cat nudges the heavy curtains open. There's a small ripping sound, and she disappears. You bolt out of bed immediately, only wearing your pajamas, and throw open the curtains. The window had been opened and the air coming through was freezing. You shiver, but don't grab shoes or your coat (from the chair in your corner where you stack up all your clothes) before climbing out. Your feet land on the ground, even though the window was on the third floor of your house. The grass is soft, surprisingly, and when you look down, it's a soft blue color between your toes. It makes you giggle, even though you're scared as hell. \n\n\"Fletcher.\" You stage-whisper into the open field. \"Come back.\" \n\nThere's a meow that you recognize to be your cats, and you start sprinting towards it. Damn the consequences, that's your baby and you'll get him back. The field ends abruptly and turns to desert. At first, you're afraid that the sand will burn, but it almost feels like ice against the bottoms of your feet. You grit your teeth, and you run again. You feel like you're running for hours before you find the black and white tabby that you call your best friend. He's lounging in front of a pale orange cactus and licking himself. Typical. \n\n\"Fletch.\" You say softly as you scoop him up. He makes the weird sound he always makes when he gets picked up; somewhere between loving and indignant. \"Okay, lets get back home.\"\n\nThe walk home takes seconds. You shake off the feeling of vertigo that comes from being in the desert one second and at the window the next. You didn't notice when you came through, but on this side, the window is a door. A plain, peeling, white door. \n\nYou take a steadying breath before opening it and stepping through. Both you and your cat land in a heap on a hardwood floor. When you recover your senses (and your cat), you look around yourself. \n\nThis is not your room.\n\nThis is not your house.\n\nWhere the hell are you?\n\n", "I ran and the fire crackled. It had been a mistake to try to light the fire for my parents in the first place, but of course I hadn't listened to the warnings and done it anyway. I could feel the heat and sweat beads on my neck as the fire came racing towards me. \n\n\"Fuck, fuck, fuck.\" I muttered. \"What the fuck am I going to do? There's nowhere to go!\" \n\nI ran down the hallway, and although it had no doors, it was the only way I could go. I was trapped. Then, I saw it. The old, wooden doorway was open a crack. It had always been locked, and I didn't understand why it was open now, but I knew it wasn't the time to ask questions. I had to go. I slipped through the door and looked around the room. Nothing was there, other than a window.\n\nA window. Escape. I thought. I looked behind me and the flames entered the room.\n\nI tried to open it. It didn't. It was jammed. \"Fuck this! This is not the fucking time to fuck around with me!\" I yelled, tears of frustration and exasperation on my face. I could feel the flames getting hot on my face. I quickly smashed the window with my face. The glass fell and I climbed through. I fell down onto a chequered black and white floor. I looked fearfully around me. This was definitely NOT where I was supposed to fall. I looked behind me, to where the window was. It wasn't a window anymore. It was a painting of a burning house with someone falling out of the house. On closer inspection I noticed that the person was me and the house was mine.", "It's the kind of thing that can slip through the cracks, especially during the hubbub of moving day. Seven year old me explored the large room that I claimed, and it was the first time I'd ever seen a walk\\-in closet. It was bigger than my old room!\n\n\"Whoooooooooa..\" I marvelled at the plush, wine\\-red carpet but then daylight caught my eyes. Through a small hexagonal window I saw a snow capped mountain in the distance, under a violet sky. At seven, I did not have enough experience to understand there were no mountains on the plains of Texas, and the purple sky looked close enough to sundown that I didn't think anything about it. My parents, and the moving guys didn't seem to think anything of it either. As the day wore on boxes piled higher and higher in front of the window, blocking the view completely. \n\nIt took six months to finish unpacking and get the boxes out of the way, and by then I forgot all about the mountain and purple sky. I treated the window like any other window, aware of its presence but never actually \\looking\\ out of it.\n\nOne night while laying in bed I remembered Mikey lent me a glow\\-in\\-the\\-dark toy that I left in my backpack, in the closet. I used a small flashlight my dad gave me, and walked into the closet. Right when I found the toy a sharp noise made me jump. The flashlight and the toy flew out of my hands, as I turned towards the sound. A pair of green eyes glowed on the other side of the window, and the body they were attached to knocked on the glass again. A pale little girl about my age with long, stringy, dark hair. She smiled and waved me closer to the window. I moved closer and sat on the large sill on the inside of the window.\n\n\"Hi!\" she said. \"I'm Alliane, who are you?\" I heard her through the closed window, though she did not need to yell.\n\n\"Hi, I'm Jonah,\" I said. From that day on, as far as my parents were concerned, Alliane was my new imaginary friend. I got my dad to try and open the window; but, he couldn't figure out how and told me some houses have windows that are \"just for show\", so we chalked the window up to that. The whole time he ignored the mountain in the distance. Alliane and I grew up together, and we both learned about each other. Around my 12th birthday we figured out she lived in an alternate universe and we began to openly discuss the differences between our universes. Hers sounded wonderful, she had magic and was even training to be a sorcerer. Technology from my world impressed her too, though. I got an iPod for my birthday, and we loved to listen to music together while we worked on our homework. I worked on stupid geography while she got to learn cool things like fire spells. \n\nLeaving to college was hard, Alliane and I had become really close by then. However, she needed to leave her home too. Sorcerer's college. I left her notes on the window whenever I visited my parents, and sometimes found notes from her too. It was a difficult long distance relationship, but we managed to keep in touch. The next big change came when I graduated college. Through notes we'd planned a time to get together, and the evening after my graduation I sat in my old closet looking at the mountain in the distance. Then, she appeared. As beautiful as the last time I saw her; pale face, long dark hair in a braid, and emerald green eyes. She wore an elegant blue and black silk robe, and I noticed a fresh tattoo on her hand. A golden star with the number 35 in the center in black numbers. \n\n\"I did it!\" she said while jumping up and down. \"I'm a sorcerer!\" I clapped for her.\n\n\"So, what's next? I don't think we ever talked about what you can do with a degree in.. uh, sorcery? I guess?\" I asked. I stood from the floor and sat on the sill to be closer to her. \n\n\"Well, magic means I can do anything I want,\" she said. With a smile she snapped her fingers, I noticed her tattoo glowing. Then she vanished. \"And I know exactly what I want to do,\" she whispered into my ear from behind me.\n\n\\\\\\*\n\nThank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #152. You can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html)." ]	3
	[WP] The devil will destroy earth if you deny his request. What he wants from you? To do the most embarrassing thing anyone has ever done and it has to be in public.	[ "“Sanctus Satanas... Sanctus Satanas… Ave Satanas!”\n\nWith a final cry, Daisy collapsed to the floor. The air felt heavy around her, crushing her into the stained carpet. She could see the flames of the blood red candles start to grow; oily black tendrils of smoke dancing together. The smell of sulfur was thick in the room, and Daisy started to choke on it, struggling to draw in breathable air. There was a storm brewing in the room and it was dragging Daisy closer and closer to the center. The pentagram she had drawn earlier using her own blood had now crumbled away. In its place was a pit. A pit that stretched down into eternity. And something was coming out of it.\n\nThe unseen force that had been pulling her towards the pit let her go. She scrambled backwards, tears running down her face, blood running down her arms. With an ear splitting screech, the candles died and the smoke disappeared. From the darkness, a monstrous voice called out.\n\n“Speak, Child. Why Have You Summoned Me.”\n\nHearing the voice was like nothing Daisy had ever experience before. It managed to be emotionless and deadly, calm and furious at the same time.\n\n“I Said Speak.”\n\nThe voice hadn’t changed, but this time it was clearly a command. Before Daisy could think, the words ruptured out of her mouth.\n\n“Lord Lucifer, thank you for answering my call. My name is Daisy Greyson, and I wish to sell you my soul.”\n\n“What Makes You Think Your Soul Could Possibly Have Any Value To Me?” said Lucifer.\n\nThe question stunned Daisy. She had assumed the difficult part of the job was to summon Lucifer. The struggle she gone through to acquire the correct manuscripts and ingredients. The hours she had poured into phone calls with lunatics, trying to uncover the truth behind their words. All that, and she couldn’t think of a single reasonable answer to the question.\n\n“You Are Wasting My Time.”\n\nA searing lance of fire shot through every bone in Daisy’s body. She once again collapsed to to the floor, eyes rolled back in her head. It was a pain far greater than she could have ever imagined was possible. The moment felt timeless. There was no escape. Daisy screamed out to no one. It was an animal instinct, originating somewhere deep in her soul.\n\n“I See.” said Lucifer.\n\nAs quickly as the pain had started, it ended. Daisy came crashing back to reality and drew in a shaky breath. Every movement hurt.\n\n“You Feel The World Has Abandoned You. There Is No One Left Who Loves, Or Even Likes, You. You Want To Sell Your Soul To Guarantee A Place Among My Elite?”\n\n“Yes” whispered Daisy.\n\n“Your Soul Is Worthless.” replied Lucifer.\n\n“No, I have value! I can show you my worth!” \n\n“It Is Written Plainly On Your Soul. You Want To Die. But You’re Afraid. Afraid Of What Punishment You Would Get In The Afterlife If You Went Through With It.”\n\n“Please, my lord. There must be something! I have dedicated the majority of my life to you. I am capable of carrying out your will!” Daisy pleaded.\n\n“5 Years. You Have 5 Years To Prove Your Souls Worth To Me. A Lone Soul Is Useless. A Connected Soul Is Powerful. You Have No One. Change That. I Will Return To Hold You In Judgement. Should You Fail, Every Man, Woman And Child On This Forsaken Rock Will Burn, Cursing Your Name As Their Lungs Turn To Ash.”\n\n“Wait, I don’t understand! Why are you doing this!” said Daisy.\n\n“DO NOT QUESTION ME”\n\nAnd with that great roar, there was a blinding flash of light, followed by silence. The silence was shortly shattered by the sobs of Daisy. She lay there, wrapped in darkness, a floodgate of emotions crashing out of her. Emotions she thought she had long buried. Emotions she had tried to cut away, evident by the scars running down her legs. She cried long into the night. She cried until there were no tears left to cry, and continued to cry. As the sun started to banish the shadows, Daisy started to regain control of herself. She could feel a new fire inside of her and she knew what she had to do. She drew her phone from her pocket, and stared at the contact labelled “Leah”. She knew she was about to do the toughest thing she would ever do. Something she could never bring herself to do before.\n\n“Hello? Who is this?” came the answer from the other side of the phone.\n\n“Mum, it’s Daisy” she sobbed “I need help”.\n", "\"Okay, but what do I get in return?\" I asked.\n\nSomewhat perplexed, Lucifer replied \"Nothing. I don't destroy the planet, you can continue to live with the rest of your loved ones and the world.\"\n\n\"Yeah I'm not convinced. You see, if you destroy the planet, everyone and myself die. I don't need to worry about anything. I CANT worry about anything. If you exist, heaven exists. If I dont give into you, I can only assume ill go to heaven, and I will see all of my loved ones who've gone there, past and present. So in other words, go ahead, destroy the Earth. I have nothing to lose. Yet you do. No more souls will ever be created to be twisted and enter your domain. You'll be out of a job.\"\n\nThe Devil stroked his goatee, processing what I have said.\n\n\"Well played. Its almost as if my secretary u/ArtWrt147 didnt think this through. What if I up the ante? What is it you desire?\"\n\n\"I want Five-Hundred bitcoin deposited into this address: 13qWLNfEVoSM5CTCSokDPeaGd3J91NRHdT. Not BCH, I want BTC. I also want this contract to have no loopholes. I get what I want. You get what you want. Which is what exactly? You said embarrassing, not illegal right?\"\n\nSmiling, the Devil replied \"We will have a deal. I want you to do the one most questionable thing you can imagine. Maybe you cant think of it now, but you have before.\"\n\n\"You want me to do the party trick with the pineapple I usually do when I'm drunk? Sure. Ill do it right no-\"\n\n\"OH DEAR LORD NO NOT NOW! Wait for me to leave, its disgusting.\"\n\nAlright. Suit yourself. Or my name isn't Katja Fucking Monagan!", "\"Look, I'm not going to do it.\" Her eyes focused back on the creature. He wasn't at all what she thought he was going to be. He wasn't a beast at all. He was actually sort of handsome? But in that annoying Hollywood way where he seemed like he'd be really high maintenance. She supposed Lucifer was supposed to be the most beautiful angel or some such. She never really paid attention in bible study a she considered it illogical. And yet there was a cold emptiness in his eyes that assured her he was exactly the monster he was described as. \n\n\nWhich wasn't as scary as she thought it would be. \n\n\n\"If you don't do it I will destroy the earth.\" She had no doubt that he would do it.\n\n\"I'm sure you will...but I don't know. If you'd destroy the earth over something so trivial then no matter what I do in this moment you will eventually end up doing it. Which means life has no meaning and there is no point in stopping you from simply ending it now...\"\n\n\nContinued rambling in that manner and Lucifer glanced around the room in irritation. His eyes snapped to a few items that made him boil with deep rage. This was a nightmare. He should have looked into her before he came here.\n\n\nPhilosophy 101: An Introduction to Nihilism and all three seasons of Rick and Morty \n\n/r/madmaiden", "\"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇\"\n\n\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\n\n\"Do it.\"\n\nThe beast looked puzzled, neck crooked from being too tall and foolishly standing in the living room. Couldn't exactly look threatening with your body bent over in a silly manner. Confused, Satan looked the man in the eye and asked him, \"Come again?\"\n\n\"Do it. Blow up this planet. Take everyone with it.\"\n\nSatan never had been challenged before, let alone by a disheveled 30\\-something with unkempt facial hair, standing in a tattered bathrobe and holding a cup of coffee that he knew was clearly spiked. He awkwardly hobbled towards the man, stopping shortly to fight with the ceiling fan after his horns got stuck. Once free, he towered above the puny man, claws extended to his weak flesh. \"Do not tempt me, mortal,\" he growled. \"Your attempts to deny me amusement will not go unheeded.\"\n\nThe man yawned. Satan wasn't pleased.\n\n\"I mean it,\" he continued, pointing out the window. On the street, two joggers erupted into flames. \"I will raze this feeble planet with hellfire if you don't do what I ask!\"\n\nMoving past the devil, the man sat on the couch and grabbed the remote, turning it on and flipping channels until he found a talk show. \"Fuckin' raze the earth then, hot stuff. Or don't. Just get out of my house. My show's on.\"\n\nThere was a great silence. Satan stared at the man, who simply watched his show and drank his coffee. Every now and again, the man would say something to the TV, as if the the devil, the ruler of Hell, wasn't just there in his house.\n\nFrustrated, Satan threw his hands up in the air, smacking the ceiling and disappearing in a pillar of flame. Down the street, his bestial voice echoed throughout the neighborhood, followed shortly by the screech of tires and a scream.\n\n^(\"You there! You will do as I command or this world will suffer a fate of eternal damnation!\")\n\nFinishing his coffee, the man flipped through more channels and scoffed. \"Weakling.\"" ]	4
	[WP] So tell me again Elon Musk, “are you positive I’m the right person to go to mars?” Said Dead Pool.	[ "Musk seemed pretty serious about this choice, \"Has he finally gone bananas?\" Was all Wade could think of at the time.\n\n\n\"I sure am, mister Wilson, your regenerative abilities are the only ones apt to survive on Mars' surface\" \n\n\n\"Well, at least that confirms you haven't gone bat-shit crazy, Elon\" Deadpool felt odd, he felt as if this was the chance he had of actually being useful to society without actually murdering someone, he really didn't want to do it, but Musk offered a lot of cash, and damn did Wade need some money. \"I'll finally be able to buy that chimichanga boat I've always wanted!!! What do you guys think?\".\n\n\nMusk started to check around him to see if there was anyone besides him and Deadpool \"Who are you talking to?\" He asked with curiosity.\n\n\n\"Shut it budgeted-Iron Man!\" \n\n\"Well back to the subject; as I mentioned your regenerative abilities are going to be really helpful when exploring the planet, so I sincerely think we can skip the training just this once\" That was all Musk said before he started going through the pile of paper in his desk\n\n\n\"What the SHIT!!\" The statement somehow managed to make Wade angy and scared, because even with his regeneration powers, the shit he goes through still cause him pain, a lot of it. \"That is just some ex-machina the writer of this crippling horseshit is using because his goddamn lazy ass wants to skip a fucking verbal training montage!!!\" This whole situation had gotten Wade a little bit too angry, he tried to relief himself thinking of how he was going to build a Scrooge McDuck style vault full of golden coins, \"Damnit! The coins are not a liquid, I can't dive on them!!\" He too a deep breath and thought his answer for around 10 seconds:\n\n\"Well, things as a hitman have been really slow, and it's not that better as an anti hero, so this will help me pay the chimichangas, but I have one rule; I will not be responsible of any bad thing that happens during this shitshow\"\n\n\n\n\n\nThis is my first prompt, I would love to extend it more, but I drained my imagination lol, depending on what you guys think about it I might actually start doing these more often :)" ]	1
	[WP] James Bond enters a bar to meet his newest accomplice for his latest mission. As he sits down to brief his mission he introduces himself to his new partner. “Bond, James Bond. And you are?” The man answers with “Wick. John Wick.”	[ "James Bond was not amused. He had gotten a call from the Spy Development centre and the scientist had started excitedly babbling in his ears.\n \n “Yes…..finally succeeded….2…never in….come in.. say hello.” Bond had gathered that they wanted him to \ncome in to the lab, however even as a top agent, he could not decipher whatever the heck the scientist had wanted\n to convey with his rambling.\n \n Well, no matter. He'd see for himself soon enough.\n\n He got up from his luxurious couch overlooking the dazzling sunset and clicked a button that transferred a small private plane \non his roof.\n\n If he hurried, he could probably get home just in time for his date.\n\n ————————————————————\n\n Bond walked in to the crisp, clinical air in the lab as the door hissed close behind him. The air conditioned room was bliss in the summer heat.\n\n “Welcome,” a scientist boomed, his moustache quivering in his excitement.\n\n Bond observed the scientist. Going by his voice he was likely the man who had spoken to him on the phone. \nHis portly belly and jolly smile gave him a sunny demeanour and hid the shrewd look in his eyes.\n\n Bond wondered whether he should be on guard. On one hand this was a relatively unknown person and\n on the other he had never known any brilliant scientists that weren't annoyingly cunning or \ninsufferably smug at their own existence.\n\n “We have finally finished creating it. It's been tested and modified and perfectly in condition to work.” Ah. \nLook, there was the smugness. It seemed as if the scientist had gotten past in excitement and was ready\n for the world to praise his accomplishments.\n\n “Ahem, not to brag but these models are better than any humankind has ever seen. A miracle. This will definitely leave a \nmark on history.” The scientist collected himself and wiped the sweat on his brows.\n\n “Ah, where are my manners? I am Dr. Velt. I have been working on the development of this product for \nnearly 5 years now. The higher ups had given you the order to analyze the usefulness of the product \nonce completed, I suppose?…. yes, yes no worries, you will definitely be satisfied.”\n\n Bond raised his eyebrows,”I have not yet been told what this product yet…”\n\n He waited for the scientist to respond but Dr.Velt seemed perfectly at ease in ignoring his hint.\n\n “Oh yes, you'll see, no need to rush, no rush at all.” He cackled.\n\n Dr. Velt led him down the stiflingly still, silver hallway into a room with lava lamps that provided barely enough\n light to see by. Velt walked to the centre of the room and dramatically took a white sheet off a \nstructure in the middle of the room.\n \nFluorescent lights flooded his eyes at that exact moment and Bond squinted his eyes in annoyance.\n\n “I Present To You…..James Bond 2.0!!!”\n\n There in the middle of the room was a man who looked exactly like him to the very strands of his hair.\n\n Bond stared , “ What the…”\n\n “Yes, Yes, is it not just brilliant? It can do anything you can do plus every normal human activity. We even\n had experts from various fields and profession come in to help with the programming. Essentially it's an even\n better version of you.”\n\n “Its intelligence is so advanced that it can comprehend every emotion and will even live out its life to the span of \nan above average human lifetime .”\n\n Dr.Velt huffed in pride, “ It's a breakthrough in human engineering.”\n\n Bond paused,” So it comprehends every emotion? Even anger, hatred…?”\n\n “ Oh, why must you people always focus on the negative things? Look on the brighter side… this model could \nprobably replace every operative on the field.. there would be even less deaths.”\n\n “Even better, if it goes insane, I hold no responsibility over it. After all, it was the higher ups that had \ncommissioned this project.It's already out of my hands the moment it was finished. As long as I do not purposefully\n insert harmful virus in it, it's not my fault”\n\n Velt shrugged in indifference.\n\n “I will be renowned in professional circles, and more importantly—I am earning billions from this project, billions you see?”\n\n Bond recovered his composure, “ Replace every operative on the field? That claim is a bit ridiculous , \ndon't you think?” \n\n Dr.Velt if possible looked even more gleeful.” I was just waiting for you to ask that, you know. Watch.”\n\n With that he pulled out a remote, and typed in a code. The entire back wall groaned open to reaveal another room of \nmassive proportions.\n\n However Bond had no time to be amazed by the size of the room. Because what was inside, \nlined up row by row like toys, like a never ending nightmare, were identical models. Identical models that looked exactly \nlike him.\n\n Velt came up from behind him. \n\n “And they all have the same function”.\n\n————————————————-\n\n James walked in the bar to meet his new partner. As he sat on the counter getting a drink, in came a man with the exact same face. \n \n James rose up to meet him.\n\n “Hello, I'm Bond. James Bond.\n\n The identical looking stranger offered his hand.\n\n “I'm Wick. John Wick.”\n\nA/N: Someone please tell me what the heck happened with the font T-T ORZ.", "Bond raised an eyebrow in surprise. \n\n\"Mr Wick... I've heard a great deal about you.\"\nJohn Wick sat in silence, in time he produced a brown envelope and pushed it across the table towards Bond. Seventeen years as an M15 operative had taught Bond a lot but some things weren't learned, they were instinct. He had been in situations like this before. They rarely ended well.\n\nThe envelope remained untouched, both men's hands lay palms down on the table. \n\"What's in the envelope?\" Bond asked.\n\n\"A photograph.\" Wick replied.\n\nBond's face betrayed no emotion.\"A photograph of me?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes.\" said Wick.\n\nWith a barley perceivable nod Bond motioned to two fellow agents sat at the Bar. Wick heard the two guns being unholstered, as he span in his seat Bond barked \"STOP.\" As Wick turned back in his chair he found himself staring at the barrel of the legendary Walther PPK.\n\n\"We don't want to kill you Wick, we just want to know who is paying you.... is it Tarasov?\"\n\nBond motioned with his gun and in response Wick placed his on the table and slid it towards the Englishman.\n\n\"I swore I would never speak of this person.\" Wick said, \"But I suppose there's nothing stopping me writing his name.\"\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Bond replied. \n\nAnother nod from Bond brought one of the men at the Bar to the table, his gun remained drawn. The agent reached the table and Wick watched as he was presented with a blank piece of paper and a pencil. A fucking pencil.\n\n\n\n\n\nBe gentle with me. This is my first ever WP reply!\n", "\"What can I do for you, Mr. Wick?\" Bond asked. He was sitting properly in his chair, wearing a clean black suit. \n\n\"You have a problem.\" Wick said, his face typically stoic. He, too, wore a suit, but his long hair and beard were an eyesore. \n\n\"And that is?\" Bond asked. \n\n\"Me.\" Wick replied. \n\nBond's eyes grew larger, but he didn't flinch. He had his team pat down every patron who wished to enter. If this Wick intended on killing him, he would have to do so with the objects available to him at the table. \n\n\"And why is that?\" Bond asked, ready to smash his glass through Wick's face. \n\n\"I'm an assassin, and I've been hired to kill you.\" Wick said, sitting back in his chair, surveying the bar for the third time in as many minutes. He seemed too relaxed for an American. \n\n\"But you won't.\" Bond concluded. \"Because...?\" \n\n\"It's in both our interest to put an end to this.\" Wick said, slowly removing an envelope from inside his jacket. He placed it in the middle of the table.\n\n\"Your eyes only.\" Wick said.\n\nBond pulled a packet from the envelope, revealing a dizzying amount of information connecting every high-level agency, and crime syndicate in the world. A conspiracy theorist would call it validation. \n\n\"How did you get this?\" Bond asked.\n\n\"I was tasked with eliminating the man who had this information.\" Wick said.\n\n\"And where he is now?\" Bond asked.\n\n\"Waiting.\" Wick said.\n\nIgnoring the final sip in his glass, Mr. Bond stood up, straightened his coat, and dropped money on the table. \"My car is around the corner.\"\n\nBonds' team opened the door for him, at which point they were waved off. \"I've got it from here, boys.\"\n\nBond walked alone, feeling oddly vulnerable. Wick took the long way around, through the alley, where he'd dumped his bag of weapons. Then they met at Bond's car.\n\n\"Moment of truth, Mr. Wick.\" Bond said with his usual, cool, demeanor.\n\n\"He's paranoid.\" Wick said. \"And tired of running.\"\n\nAfter a short, five minute drive, the two world-class killers walked into the hotel. Wick knocked twice, then again, two more times in rapid cessation. The door opened, and the men walked in.\n\n\"This room is secure.\" A very blonde man said. \"Assange. Julian Assange.\"", "EPIC MOVE TRAILER VOICE\n\n\"This summer, prepare for the spy vs spy vs russians film you've just been waiting for.\"\n\n\"Starring Daniel Craig as the hardest and grittiest Bond to date, with the swearing, and the injuries, and the drinking and the guns. He's the funny man.\"\n\n\"His foil, the man who reinvented swinging over 4 dudes in suits to shoot them in 15 body locations: Keanu Reeves is John Wick. He got out. He got back in, and now, he's got what Bond needs.\"\n\n\"Her Majesty's Secret Service dispatch their top man to call in their largest favour.\"\n\n\"No evil villain, nor utter mastermind, just one insane Russian submarine captain holding the western world to thermonuclear ransom.\"\n\n\"Watch as two hard bitten hard men take on every faceless mook from London to Moscow. Watch, as two men, clearly the good guys kill a record setting number of disposable targets.\"\n\n\"The real question: Will it be awesome? Oh hell yes.\"\n\n3 minute montage of gunfights.\n\n\"This is a race against time.\"\n\n3 minute montage of chase scenes in no less than 10 vehicles.\n\n\"For the fate of the civilised world.\"\n\nClose in on \"evil\" russian submarine captain.\n\nSpinning Continental Gold Coin comes straight at the reader as the title appears.\n\n\"John Wick. James Bond. The Internet's:\"\n\nTitle\n\n\"Heads I Win, Tails you Lose.\"" ]	4
	[WP] A women is found unconscious in the middle of a busy city. Her body is marked with names and dates, some are glowing red, some are striked out.	[ "I strolled down the city of New York at night admiring the gloomy atmosphere wondering what my next case would be when I saw something red glowing in the corner of my eye. I stopped and turned to see a women clad in black with cuts in her skin. As I walked closer I began to notice that the cuts were in fact names that appear to be crossed out.\n\nI stagger back a few steps when I see a name on the inside of her wrist dimly lit red, glow brighter with every second. I shout in the confusion while a crowd slowly gathers around me. I reach for my phone and take pictures of as many names and dates as possible. At this moment everyone seems to be in a eminent frenzy, the crowd was running away. I am facing the lady clad in black with one hand clutching my phone and the other in my pocket\n\nA strong gust of wind hits the back of my neck sending chills down my spine followed by a ferocious roar. I turn around pulling out a book from my pocket and yell the words the page opens to. \"elanium Colescis\" a Khanda appears in my left hand. With the double edged sword I fling it forward realising the source of the roar was a dragon. After realising what i was up against i flicked through my book to a page marked Protection .\n\nI chant a string of words and I encompassed by a clear bubble protecting my whole body as the beast lets out another roar followed by a burst of flames. The bubble around me disappears but now i am encompassed my a cloud of smoke. The smoke settles and I turn around to see the lady gone but in her place, a book. Almost identical except for an emblem of a lion imprinted on the front cover. I was taken back as I realised, There were others in New York who were part of the Magnus Circle.\n\nI got bored and wrote this, all feedback welcome ", "Shining eyes beat down on the woman lying in the 127th street left-right lane. Cars, motorcycles, and trucks flowed in rampant sync. A jockey whipped each motorist who toed too close to the victim, flashing 'GET OUT OF THE WAY' in their vision just quick enough for the vehicle to slide into the left-left lane. The hallucinatory vision was a cosmic warning, and no one failed adhere to the programming. Days and Nights passed as I eyed that woman through a pair of wooden binoculars from the balcony of an arcadian La Quinta Inn. Tattoos – names and dates – sprawled around her body. They were done up with black ink. Others appeared as I decayed into a voyeurism that was all too personal.\n\nEventually, I began to recognize the names on her body. It was overwhelming. I pulled out a red highlighter and black sharpie. Then I forged a release for myself. I drew a cross on my binoculars at every name I recognized. I pulled the highlighter back and forth my binoculars across each date that could be accounted for. Blurry tattoo lines unfamiliar to my memory remained to be seen through the sparse moments of clarity. The jockey flashed in my vision. My screams were muffled by the screeching of his iridescent fingernails upon the lens of my binoculars that I now couldn’t look away from. He removed strikes and highlights, leaving my vision unpleasant and clear. I couldn’t move anymore. I couldn’t close my eyes.\n\nThe jockey decided there were more pertinent matters to attend to, so he left. The body was then run over by cars, motorcycles, and trucks. It was flattened repeatedly and continued to flatten infinitely across time as space. And I remained watching life’s horrors where I had always been – my eyes were wooden binoculars." ]	2
	[WP] When a child is born they are given a watch and when that watch stops the most important moment of their life is about to happen.	[ "It stopped on the beach. I was given a watch when I was born; parents said it was in some gift basket sent to them, they didn't know where it came from, but there was some ominous note, \"When the watch stops, the most important moment of your son's life will begin.\" It stopped on the beach. I looked around. There were waves. There was wind. There was that smell of ocean, and perfume. Perfume like I'd never smelled before, a mix of old school oil balls bubble bath and rain on concrete. I looked out at the ocean to find its secrets. I turned around to look at the boardwalk. Everyone's face was in horror; for a second I thought there was something wrong with me. When I turned back around to see what everyone was looking at, a giant wave came down; it swalloed the boardwalk and pushed me against the concrete wall. There was that silence, not true silence, but the silence that comes after chaos. A woman crawled over to me.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" she asked me, pressing a wet hand to my forehead.\n\n\"Scraped, but nothing too bad,\" I looked at her eyes. They were almost pure black, \"I can move everything.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry. I got lost,\" she said.\n\nI looked down, in place of her legs, there was a large fin. A beautiful fin; like a Koi fish. \n\n\"Legend is going to kill me for this,\" her black eyes looked worried.\n\n\"What? What's going on?\" I asked through salt stained eyes, \"Who's Legend? Who are you? Is anyone else alive?\"\n\nShe raised her eyebrows at me, \"You really don't know a mermaid when you see one?\"\n\nI inhaled through my teeth, \"I don't even know if this is real.\"\n\n\"Your watch stopped, right?\"\n\n\"How did you know about my...\"\n\n\"We all get one. Legend leaves it for us when we're born. I was trying to cast a transportation spell, but I mixed up the words and made a tidal wave. We have to get in the sea before anyone sees us.\"\n\n\"The sea? Why? What the hell is going on?\" \n\n\"That's where Legend lives, in the sea. Your watch; you're going to become Myth.\"\n\n\"I'm a myth?\" I thought I hit my head harder than ever. I had to have been in a coma, or dreaming.\n\n\"Myth is what makes up the light in the universe. Did you get the letter Legend wrote you?\"\n\nI racked my brain to remember if I'd gotten any ominous letters, \"Was that the one in the gold envelope?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" She was suspicious.\n\n\"I threw that away with the rest of my junk mail.\"\n\n\"Well, are you ready?\"\n\n\"Ready for what?\" I became precisely aware of my soaking wet shoes and socks.\n\n\"Ready to become Myth,\" then she started speaking some weird language and waving her hands about.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess...\"\n\nWhen she finished waving her hands and chanting, there was an air bubble around my head, \"Phew,\" she said, \"Last time I did that, the guy's head exploded and he had to replace it with a pumpkin.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You work in a one story building with an elevator. Management has told you never to go in it	[ "As I pick up my final design from the printer, I look over at it. It's unassuming, really. Just a sliding metal door with a panel by it's side, a standard elevator. We'd never need it, the building's just one floor as far as I can tell.\n\nI head back to my desk to wrap up for the night. The boss gravely told me \"You should wrap up by eight,\" but I'd never have this project done on time. It's ten-thirty now. Two and a half hours over. I think back to his voice, we have the budget for the overtime.\n\nA small mechanical murmur fills the room. I look around, is it the printer? Maybe the furnace?\n\nDing.\n\nThe elevator. I can't see the doors from where I'm at, but I hear grumbling. Scraping.\n\n\"They've got to figure out a better way to block this off, my job's not pushing around file cabinets\" a man's voice says, incredibly nonchalantly. \"Ah well, let's get it ready for tomorrow.\"\n\nTwo men turn the corner. Both in full body hazmat-like suits. They drop everything upon seeing me. The shorter one whispers to the other.\n\nThe taller one yells \"Zero-one-eight-seven, report for cleaning and storage immediately.\"\n\nMy legs begin to move me toward the door. What's beyond it doesn't match my memory. I remember a coffee shop across the street. I meet Jane there every day in the morning. What's beyond the door is a dimly lit black hall.\n\nOut of a window, I see a plaque. \"American Office, mid 2010s.\"\n\n\"I don't know what kind of scenarios they're running now, we're supposed to have ten-thirty to five to clean.\"\n\nThe door opens by my hand, but I'm not moving it. As my legs move me down the hall, a familiar sounding voice finds my ears. \n\n\"Zero-one-eight-seven, reset mind-state to original deployment.\"", "I work in a one story building with an elevator.\n\nYeah. I know. Makes no sense to me neither.\n\nMake it even weirder, management told to me never go near the thing. Even got a camera up just to be sure.\n\nAnd just to be sure sure, they got an ex\\-convict named Bubba to guard the hall.\n\nOnly people 'llowed to get in the elevator ...are the repairmen. And they don't come too often. Once every few couple weeks, maybe. And never again. Once you see em once, you never see that same person again. It's always a different person every time.\n\nMakes it hard to bribe 'em into telling me a little bit of what's going on. Soon as I start to approach 'em, they run off to their cars and burn rubber out the lot.\n\nStupid me \\- a couple months later it hit me like a sledgehammer: Bubba.\n\nI'm 6'4'', 270. Bubba's barely 6 foot on tippy toes and a male American pit bull is 'bout 18\\-21 inches \$according to my Googles\$. The comparison being that both of them are smaller than me, but I ain't about to go messing with neither one of them \\- at least without a treat.\n\nOr in Bubba's case, a cold bottle of brew \$beer \\- for you nerds\$.\n\n\"Shit looks like piss.\" He took a swig and screwed his face up. \"Tastes like piss.\" He took another swig, belched, and grinned at me. \"Now, I gotta piss.\"\n\nI was in.\n\nThis was the plan we worked out:\n\nNext time one of the repairmen came by...\n\n1\\) I would get the license plate number of their car.\n\n2\\) Bubba's people would run the plates and pull up an address.\n\n3\\) Bubba would show up to the house for a 'surprise interview'\n\n4\\) Now we know what's in the elevator\n\n5\\) Never think about it again \$cuz c'mon \\- how bad could it really be?\$\n\nAt first, everything seemed to be going smooth.\n\nI got the number, Bubba's people got the address, and shortly after midnight, Bubba sent me a text saying: You won't believe this. I'll call you when I get back to the house. I'm in shock.\n\nFor Bubba to be in shock, I knew it had to be something big.\n\nI never got the call.\n\nAt least not from Bubba.\n\nAround 4, I got a call from Bubba's number. But when I answered, all I heard was two gunshots and a voice I didn't recognize rasping into the receiver saying:\n\n\"Your next. You shouldn't have pried.\"\n\nThen the line went dead and I began to sweat." ]	2
	[WP] Every time you die you get reborn as an infant and you’re gonna get the memories of your past life when you reach 21 years of age.	[ "\"Happy birthday,\" the group sang out as their glasses clunked together. Joey was happy that he had such good friends and couldn't imagine spending his 21st birthday with anyone else. He took a long swig from his first legal beer as everyone talked and joked around him. \n\nBy two in the morning the group was stumbling out of the bar, barely able to stand let alone drive. Daniel, Joey's best friend since middle school, stood on the side of the road flagging down a cab. It didn't take too long before one pulled over to pick them up. As the bright headlight aproached it filled Joey's vision. He closed his eyes and shielded his face until the light was no longer on him. \n\nHe opened his eyes and stepped forward to get into the cab, but something was off. He felt a hand grab his collar and pull him down to the ground. \n\n\"What the hell Davis. Whats gotten into you man. You know you can just walk into the open like that,\" the voice whispered to him sternly. \n\nJoey shook his head in response. He looked around trying to grasp his situation. The sound of the jungle echoed around him. The sun beat down through holes in the canopy above and the humidity made it feel as if he was in a swimming pool of his own sweat. He looked down at his hands, covered with dirt and grime, holding a rifle. On his head he felt the weight of a helmet, lazily strapped on. Around him a group of men lay in the bush, clad in full vietnam era uniforms. They looked at him as if he were stupid. Joey started to say something but the sound of gunfire off in the distance distracted him. \n\n\"C'mon boys we've got to keep pushing forward. Davis you're off point until you get your head straight. Jones up front. 'Member to keep them eyes open. You never know where those sneaky bastards are at,\" the man that pulled him down said, taking control of the group. They nodded in reply and stood. Instinctivly, Joey joined them as they trecked forward down a trail through the thick jungle ahead of them. \n\nThey walked for what seemed like miles before the soldier up front held his hand up. Joey, along with the rest of the group, stopped in their tracks and took a knee, remaining vigilant. For a moment it was eerily silent. Joey looked out at the thick brush and plants around for any sign of movement. Everything about this felt so natural to him. He wasn't even thinking about the bar anymore. \n\nA small bush moved slightly in front of him, making him shift his aim towards it. A split second later, the jungle errupted with the sound of gunfire. It came from what seemed like every angle. The group of soldiers dropped to the ground, taking up fighting positions and returning fire. The sound of war seemed all too familiar as Joey joined in on the action. \n\n\"Take this you bastards,\" he yelled at the enemy with hatred in his voice. \n\n\"Get some,\" someone yelled out down the line. The group was pumped full of adrenaline. \n\nOne after another of the enemy came pooring out towards them. The soldiers were far out numbered and it became abundantly clear as the fight went on. Just then time slowed down. It was like watching a movie and Joey was enjoying himself, at least until he felt the pain. A bullet struck him in the shoulder, spraying bright red blood across the dirt. A split second later, another bullet flew through his chest. Joey wanted to scream, but his breath failed him. With no time to react, another bullet was flying towards him. This time it was poised to hit his head. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate, everything went black.\n\nAfter a moment he didnt feel anythig. Joey opened his eyes and looked around. He was standing on the side of the road, the cab stopped in front of him. Daniel looked back at him with a sympathetic look. \n\n\"You saw it didn't you,\" Daniel asked gently. \"Was it bad?\" \n\nJoey just nodded in response, shocked at what he had just experienced. \n\n\"C'mon man. Get in the cab. We can talk about it when we get you home bud,\" Daniel said seeming to understand. He grabbed Joey's arm, leading him into the cab. \n\n\n\n--Sorry for any formatting/grammar errors. Wrote it on the subway heading downtown. Hope its at least enjoyable." ]	1
	[WP] You're new in town and you don't know anyone. Walking down the street you realise everyone is fascinated by you. They nudge their friends and point you out like a celebrity. They all seem to recognise you. You decide to approach the next person you encounter for answers.	[ "I picked her because she seemed to be the only one that wasn't as completely enamored with me as everyone else appeared to be. Everyone in the street was staring at me like I was some type of celebrity. And she was staring, too. But almost like she was staring... beyond me or something.\n\nIf that makes sense.\n\nShe jumped when I said, \"Excuse me?\" which let me know that my assumption from earlier was right: she had probably just been daydreaming with her face in my direction.\n\n\"Sorry to bother you,\" I went on, \"but could you tell m\\-\"\n\n\"Come.\"\n\nThe next thing I know she's grabbing my hand and running off with me down the street.\n\nConfusion? Yes, there was definitely a lot of that running through my head. Excitement? Yes, there was definitely a lot of that running through my veins, as well, in that moment. Fear? Well, not quite \\- that is, until the first bullet shattered the glass window of the storefront that we had just passed.\n\n\"What the fudge?!\" I turn and look back, catching a glimpse of three men in black before the girl swings us into an alley and out of the way of a...\"Was that a missile?! Did they just shoot a missile at us?!\" An explosion rocks the area and sends a mushroom cloud of debris and concrete into the air.\n\nMy ears are ringing, but I don't need to hear her scream, \"Duck!\" to see the fireball speeding at us from the opposite end of the alley.\n\nI have no clue where this story came from. Just got inspired for a little bit and ran with whatever. Then my muse died, heh. But I wanted it to be a story about a small community of characters with powers that are being hunted down. Main character \\- mesmerism. The girl \\- able to see glimpses of the future. Stuff like that." ]	1
	[WP] Bob Ross does a Minecraft tutorial on how to build a house.	[ "The Joy of Building, with Bob Ross.\nSeason 27, Episode 13.\n\n“Welcome back. This is the last show of the 27th series and I’m glad you’re with us today.\n\nI thought we’d go crazy today and just do a little building. I just want to see what happens, okay?”\n\nCobblestone in hand, he returns to the blank slate before him with fresh ideas pouring out of him like silverfish out of a silverfish spawner.\n\n“Let’s start out and have all the blocks across the screen that you need to build along with us, okay?”\n\nAs he continues to speak about his flat landscaped area before him, several block names flash on the screen.\n\nSTONY COBBLESTONE\nCHAMPAGNE-BROWN OAK LOGS\nOCEANIC AQUAMARINE PRISMARINE BRICKS\n\n“Here I have a relatively standard area for some building. Freshly cleared it out with my Efficiency V shovel, actually! This is a nice ten by ten area which should serve as a solid beginning for our masterpiece.\n\nAs you see here, I have the foundations laid out before us. I don’t know if you can see it yet, but I actually mixed in some cracked stone bricks along with our cobblestone — it gives it this cool looking design that I really like.”\n\nIndicated by his excessive hand gestures, there was indeed a small foundation composed of the cobblestone and cracked stone bricks.\n\n“And... now we employ the strategy that we all know by now so I will very vaguely mention and never explain... ta-da! Here is a beautiful masterpiece of a building. I’m afraid we went slightly outside of our ten by ten block area constraints, but we now have a fully scaled replica of the Taj Mahal!”" ]	1

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